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The Historical Romances 
of Louisa Miihlbach 



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Brandenburg Edition 
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7162 


Copyright, 1870, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 


Copyright, 1898, 

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 


INTRODUCTION. 


Hortense Eugenie de Beauharnais, Napoleon’s 
stepchild and sister-in-law, Queen of Holland and mother 
of Napoleon III. and of his adviser, the Duke de Morny, 
well deserves a prominent place in the gallery of pic- 
tures of men and women whom the Revolution brought 
forth and the Empire raised to eminence. In the men 
and women of that period we see the same faults. Hor- 
tense de Beauharnais, notwithstanding Louisa Miihl- 
back’s eulogies, shares her mother’s tarnished reputation, 
which was also the reputation of Madame Tallien and 
of Napoleon’s own sisters. Her relations to General 
Flahault are too notorious to be ignored ; history has 
given a place to their offspring, Morny. Moreover, 
Hortense, like her mother, amply atoned for her mis- 
deeds by her love for her children, and her stanch 
friendship for Napoleon in the days when even his 
brothers deserted him. 

Born on April 10, 1783, at Paris, Hortense de Beau- 
harnais was educated by Madame Oampan, and mar- 
ried, at her mother’s special wish, to Napoleon’s third 

iii 


IV 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


brother, Louis, in 1802. The marriage was distaste- 
ful to both, but Napoleon was the unquestioned ruler 
of his own family, and in this instance he seconded, 
perhaps unwillingly, Josephine’s machinations. Louis 
Bonaparte (born on September 2, 1778) had been edu- 
cated at the artillery school of Chalons, where he had 
imbibed royalistic ideas, and had accompanied Na- 
poleon on his campaigns in Italy and Egypt. In 1806 
the emperor forced the Dutch to offer the royal dignity 
to him, and commanded him to accept it. Louis obeyed, 
much against his wishes, for he well saw that he would 
be unable to serve his kingdom as a conscientious ruler 
should, and that, as a matter of fact, he would be noth- 
ing more than the emperor’s governor. He found his 
kingdom in a state of utter commercial collapse. Na- 
poleon’s wars with England had robbed her of her col- 
onies, her fleets, her welfare ; smuggling was the only 
form of trade still possible ; the national debt grew at 
an alarming rate, and in 1809 the English landed in the 
island of Walcheren — an expedition that was defeated 
by the climate rather than the French and Dutch sol- 
diers. Louis tried hard to protect his people against the 
emperor’s ruinous policy. He enforced the edicts 
against trade with England as little as possible, sought 
to benefit his people in every possible way, but suc- 
ceeded merely in averting national bankruptcy. Exas- 
perated by his resistance, Napoleon forced him to abdi- 
cate on July 1, 1810, and made Holland a part of the 
Empire. Louis adopted the title of Count of Saint- Leu, 


INTRODUCTION. 


V 


and went to live in Gratz ; in 1813 lie repeatedly of- 
fered his services to the emperor, on condition, how- 
ever, of the restitution of his kingdom; but in 1814, 
when the house of Orange had been raised to the throne, 
he went to Paris and offered his aid unconditionally. 
Napoleon, however, treated him coolly, and in the fol- 
lowing year Louis declined his invitations to come to 
Paris. After obtaining a divorce from Hortense, Louis 
continued to live in Florence. He died on July 25, 
1846, in Livorno, after the escape of his son from the 
fortress of Ham. 

After her husband’s abdication and departure for 
Gratz, Hortense returned to Paris, where, notwithstand- 
ing his divorce and second marriage, she continued to 
live on a footing of great intimacy with Napoleon. In 
1814 she was the only member of the family to stay in 
Paris. After the Hundred Hays she went to Switzer- 
land, where she passed most of the remaining years of 
her life, spending her winters, however, in Italy. She 
visited Louis Philippe in Paris, and died on October 5, 
1837. Her remains were buried at Eueil, by the side of 
her mother. 

Queen Hortense ends the series of volumes deal- 
ing with the Napoleonic era. It completes the picture 
till Waterloo, and carries it on through the reign of 
Louis XVIII. — who was not overwise, yet wiser than 
all his courtiers, in an indolent, cynical kind of way — to 
the youth of Louis Napoleon, the conspirator and po- 
litical dreamer who, amid circumstances that seemed to 


vi 


QUEEN HOETENSE. 


put unsurmountable obstacles in bis way, was to re-es- 
tablish tbe throne of the great emperor and to rule from 
it for nearly twenty years the destinies of Europe. This 
series presents the fortunes of the house of Prussia dur- 
ing Napoleon’s reign ; it shows the rise of the sovereign 
people in Germany, the growth of their power, and its 
assertion in 1813 ; it gives a picture of the patron saint 
of German patriotism in those days, Queen Louisa, and 
of its martyrs, Palm, Piickler, Schill, and Staps, as well 
as of its heroes, Stein, Hardenberg, Gneisenau, Scharn- 
horst, York, Bliicher ; nor are the minor lights for- 
gotten, such as Koerner, the poet-warrior who was to 
fall so early in the war. The volumes devoted to 
Josephine and Hortense show a different aspect of the 
period ; and throughout, with the exception of the au- 
thor’s indefensible assumption that both the empress 
and her daughter were strictly virtuous women, the facts 
of history are strictly adhered to. While overlapping 
each other of necessity, these volumes are singularly free 
from repetition ; therefore we have what# is practically 
but one continuous history of continental Europe, from 
the days of the Great Elector and Louis XIY. to those 
of Waterloo and the Holy Alliance, viewed principally 
from the point of view of Prussian politics, but chron- 
icled with strictest impartiality. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK I. 

DAYS OF CHILDHOOD AND OF THE REVOLUTION. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Days of Childhood 1 

II. — The Prophecy 12 

III. — Consequences of the Revolution 22 

IY. — General Bonaparte 32 

Y. — The Marriage 39 

VI. — Bonaparte in Italy 46 

VII. — Vicissitudes of Destiny 50 

VIII. — Bonaparte’s Return from Egypt 57 

BOOK II. 

THE QUEEN OF HOLLAND. 

I. — A First Love 68 

II. — Louis Bonaparte and Duroc 75 

III. — Consul and King 84 

IV. — The Calumny 92 

V. — King or Emperor 103 

VI. — Napoleon’s Heir 114 

VII. — Premonitions . . 121 

VIII.— The Divorce 125 

IX.— The King of Holland 131 

X. — Junot, the Duke d’Abrantes 140 

XI.— Louis Napoleon as a Vender of Violets . . . 147 

XII.— The Days of Misfortune 154 

XIII.— The Allies in Paris 162 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIY. — Correspondence between the Queen and Louise de 

Cochelet 169 

XV. — Queen Hortense and the Emperor Alexander . . 182 

XVI.— The New Uncles 186 

XVII. — Death of the Empress Josephine 189 


BOOK III. 

THE RESTORATION. 

I. — The Return of the Bourbons .... 

II. — The Bourbons and the Bonapartes . . . 

III. — Madame de Stael 

IV. — Madame de Stael’s Return to Paris 

V. — Madame de Stael’s Visit to Queen Hortense 

VI.— The Old and New Era 

VII.— King Louis XVIII 

VIII. — The Drawing-room of the Duchess of St. Leu . 

IX. — The Burial of Louis XVI. and his Wife 

X. — Napoleon’s Return from Elba .... 

XI. — Louis XVIII.’s Departure and Napoleon’s Arrival 

XII. — The Hundred Days 

XIII. — Napoleon’s Last Adieu 


197 

208 

216 

229 

232 

241 

248 

255 

263 

267 

273 

277 

9m 


BOOK IV. 

THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 

I.— The Banishment of the Duchess of St. Leu . . .292 

II. — Louis Napoleon as a Child 299 

III. — The Revolution of 1830 307 

IV. — The Revolution in Rome and the Sons of Hortense . 313 

V. — The Death of Prince Napoleon . 321 

VI.— The Flight from Italy 329 

VII. — The Pilgrimage 338 

VIII. — Louis Philippe and the Duchess of St. Leu . . 347 

IX. — The Departure of the Duchess from Paris . . . 354 

X. — Pilgrimage through France 360 

XI. — Fragment from the Memoirs of Queen Hortense . . 368 

XII. — The Pilgrim 375 

XIII. — Conclusion ......... 381 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


BOOK I. 

DAYS OF CHILDHOOD AND OF THE 
RE VOL UTION. 


CHAPTER I. 

DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 

“ One moment of bliss is not too dearly bought with 
death,” says our great German poet, and he may be right ; 
but a moment of bliss purchased with a long lifetime full 
of trial and suffering is far too costly. 

And when did it come for her, this “ moment of 
bliss ? ” When could Hortense Beauharnais, in speaking 
of herself, declare, “ I am happy ? Now, let suffering 
and sorrow come upon me, if they will ; I have tasted 
felicity, and, in the memories it has left me, it is im- 
perishable and eternal ! ” 

Much, very much, had this daughter of an empress 
and mother of an emperor to endure. 

In her earliest youth she had been made familiar with 
misfortune and with tears ; and in her later life, as maid- 
en, wife, and mother, she was not spared, 
l 


2 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


A touchingly-beautiful figure amid the drama of the 
Napoleonic days was this gentle and yet high-spirited 
queen, who, when she had descended from the throne 
and had ceased to be a sovereign, exhausted and weary 
of life, found refuge at length in the grave, yet still sur- 
vived among us as a queen — no longer, indeed, a queen 
of nations, but the Queen of Flowers. 

The flowers have retained their remembrance of Jo- 
sephine’s beautiful daughter ; they did not, like so many 
of her own race, deny her when she was no longer the 
daughter of the all-powerful emperor, but merely the 
daughter of the “ exile.” Among the flowers the lovely 
Hortense continued to live on, and Gavarni, the great 
poet of the floral realm, has reared to her, as Hortensia, 
the Flower Queen, an enchanting monument, in his 
“ Fleurs Animees Upon a mound of Ilortensias rests 
the image of the Queen Hortense, and, in the far dis- 
tance, like the limnings of a half-forgotten dream, are 
seen the towers and domes of Paris. Farther in the 
foreground lies the grave of Hortense, with the carved 
likeness of the queenly sister of the flowers. Loneliness 
reigns around the spot, but above it, in the air, hovers 
the imperial eagle. The imperial mantle, studded with 
its golden bees, undulates behind him, like the train of a 
comet ; the dark-red ribbon of the Legion of Honor, with 
the golden cross, hangs around his neck, and in his beak 
he bears a full-blooming branch of the crown imperial. 

It is a page of world-renowned history that this 
charming picture of Gavarni’s conjures up before us — 


DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 


3 


an historical pageant that sweeps by ns in wondrous fan- 
tastic forms of light and shadow, when we scan the life 
of Queen Hortense- with searching gaze, and meditate 
upon her destiny. She had known all the grandeur and 
splendor of earth, and had seen them all crumble again to 
dust. No, not all ! Her ballads and poems remain, for 
genius needs no diadem to be immortal. 

When Hortense ceased to be a queen by the grace of 
Napoleon, she none the less continued to be a poetess 
“ by the grace of God.” Her poems are sympathetic and 
charming, full of tender plaintiveness and full of impas- 
sioned warmth, which, however, in no instance oversteps 
the bounds of womanly gentleness. Her musical com- 
positions, too, are equally melodious and attractive to 
the heart. Who does not know the song, “ Va fen, 
Guerrier ,” which Hortense wrote and set to music, and 
then, at Napoleon’s request, converted into a military 
march? The soldiers of France once left their native 
land, in those days, to the sound of this march, to carry 
the French eagles to Russia ; and to the same warlike 
harmony they have marched forth more recently, toward 
the same distant destination. This ballad, written by 
Hortense, survived. At one time everybody sang it, 
joyously, aloud. Then, when the Bourbons had returned, 
the scarred and crippled veterans of the Invalides 
hummed it under their breath, w T hile they whispered 
secretly to each other of the glory of La Belle France, 
as of a beautiful dream of youth, now gone forever. 

To-day, that song rings out with power again through 


4 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


France, and mounts in jubilee to the summit of the col- 
umn on the Place Vendome. The bronze visage of the 
emperor seems to melt into a smile as these tremulous 
billows of melody go sweeping around his brow, and the 
Hortensias on the queen’s grave raise dreamingly their 
heads of bloom, in which the dews of heaven, or the tears 
of the departed one, glisten like rarest gems, and seem to 
look forth lovingly and listen to this ditty, which now for 
France has won so holy a significance — holy because it is 
the master -chant of a religion which all men and all 
nations should revere — the “ religion of our memories.” 
Thus, this “ Va fen, G nervier” which France now sings, 
resounds over the grave of the queen, like a salute of 
honor over the last resting-place of some brave soldier. 

She had much to contend with — this hapless and 
amiable queen — but she ever proved firm, and ever re- 
tained one kind of courage that belongs to woman — the 
courage to smile through her tears. Her father perished 
on the scaffold; her mother, the doubly-dethroned em- 
press, died of a broken heart ; her step-father, the Em- 
peror Napoleon, pined away, liked a caged lion, on a lone 
rock in the sea ! Her whole family — all the dethroned 
kings and queens — went wandering about as fugitives 
and pariahs, banished from their country, and scarcely 
wringing from the clemency of those to whom they had 
been clement, a little spot of earth, where, far from the 
bustle and intercourse of the world, they might live in 
quiet obscurity, with their great recollections and their 
mighty sorrows. Their past lay behind them, like a glit- 


DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 


5 


tering fairy tale, which no one now believed ; and only 
the present seemed, to men and nations, a welcome reality, 
which they, with envenomed stings, were eager to brand 
upon the foreheads of the dethroned Napoleon race. 

Yet, despite all these sorrows and discouragements, 
Hortensia had the mental strength not to hate her fellow- 
beings, but, on the contrary, to teach her children to love 
them and do good to them. The heart of the dethroned 
queen bled from a thousand wounds, but she did not allow 
these wounds to stiffen into callousness, nor her heart to 
harden under the broad scars of sorrow that had ceased 
to bleed. She cherished her bereavements and her 
wounds, and kept them open with her tears ; but, even 
while she suffered measureless woes, it solaced her heart 
to relieve the woes and dry the tears of others. Thus 
was her life a constant charity ; and when she died she 
could, like the Empress Josephine, say of herself, “ I 
have wept much, but never have I made others weep.” 

Hortense was the daughter of the Yiscount de Beau- 
harnais, who, against the wishes of his relatives, married 
the beautiful Josephine Tascher de la Pagerie, a young 
creole lady of Martinique. This alliance, which love 
alone had brought about, seemed destined, nevertheless, 
to no happy issue. While both were young, and both 
inexperienced, passionate, and jealous, both lacked the 
strength and energy requisite to restrain the wild im- 
pulses of their fiery temperaments within the cool and 
tranquil bounds of quiet married life. The viscount was 
too young to be not merely a lover and tender husband, 


0 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


but also a sober counsellor and cautious instructor in the 
difficult after-day of life ; and Josephine was too inno- 
cent, too artless, too sportive and genial, to avoid all those 
things that might give to the watchful and hostile family 
of her husband an opportunity for ill-natured suspicions, 
which were whispered in the viscount’s ear as cruel cer- 
tainties. It may readily be conceived, then, that such a 
state of things soon led to violent scenes and bitter grief. 
Josephine was too beautiful and amiable not to attract 
attention and admiration wherever she went, and she was 
not yet llasee and hackneyed enough to take no pleasure 
in the court thus paid to her, and the admiration so uni- 
versally shown her, nor even to omit doing her part to 
win them. But, while she was naive and innocent at 
heart, she required of her husband that these trifling out- 
side coquetries should not disquiet him nor render him 
distrustful, and that he should repose the most unshaken 
confidence in her. Her pride revolted against his sus- 
picions, as did his jealousy against her seeming frivolity ; 
and both became quite willing, at last, to separate, not- 
withstanding the love they really bore each other at the 
bottom of their hearts, had not their children rendered 
such a separation impossible. These children were a son, 
Eugene, and a daughter, Hortense, four years younger 
than the boy. Both parents loved these children with 
passionate tenderness ; and often when one of the stormy 
scenes at which we have hinted took place in the pres- 
ence of the young people, an imploring word from Eu- 
gene or a caress from little Hortense would suffice to 


DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 7 

reconcile their father and mother, whose anger, after all, 
was but the result of excessive attachment. 

But these domestic broils became more violent with 
time, and the moment arrived when Eugene was no 
longer there to stand by his little sister in her efforts to 
soothe the irritation of her parents. The viscount had 
sent Eugene, who was now seven years of age, to a 
boarding-school; and little Ilortense, quite disheartened 
by the absence of her brother, had no longer the means 
or the courage to allay the quarrels that raged between 
her parents, but would escape in terror and dismay, when 
they broke out, to some lonely corner, and there weep 
bitterly over a misfortune, the extent of which her poor 
little childish heart could not yet estimate. 

In the midst of this gloomy and stormy period, the 
young viscountess received a letter from Martinique. It 
was from her mother, Madame Tascher de la Pagerie, 
who vividly depicted to her daughter the terrors of her 
lonely situation in her huge, silent residence, where there 
was no one around her but servants and slaves, whose 
singularly altered and insubordinate manner had, of late, 
alarmed the old lady, and filled her with secret apprehen- 
sions for the future. She, therefore, besought her 
daughter to come to her, and live with her, so that she 
might cheer the last few years of her mother’s existence 
with the bright presence of her dazzling youth. 

Josephine accepted this appealing letter from her 
mother as a hint from destiny ; and, weary of her domes- 
tic wrangles, and resolved to end them forever, she took 


8 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


her little daughter, Hortense, then scarcely four years 
old, and with her sailed away from France, to seek be- 
yond the ocean and in her mother’s arms the new happi- 
ness of undisturbed tranquillity. 

But, at that juncture, tranquillity had fled the world. 
The mutterings and moanings of the impending tempest 
could be heard on all sides. A subterranean rumbling 
was audible throughout all lands ; a dull thundering and 
outcry, as though the solid earth were about to change 
into one vast volcano — one measureless crater — that 
would dash to atoms, and entomb, with its blazing lava- 
streams and fiery cinder-showers, the happiness and peace 
of all humanity. And, finally, this terrific crater did, 
indeed, open and hurl destruction and death on all sides, 
over the whole world, uprooting, with demoniac fury, 
entire races and nations, and silencing the merry laugh 
and harmless jest with the overpowering echoes of its 
awful voice ! 

This volcano was the revolution. In France, the 
first and most fearful explosion of this terrific crater oc- 
curred, but the whole world shook and heaved with it, 
and, on all sides, the furious masses from beneath over- 
flowed on the surface, seeking to reverse the order of 
things and place the lowest where the highest had been. 
Even away in Martinique this social earthquake was felt, 
which had already, in France, flung out the bloody guil- 
lotine from its relentless crater. This guillotine had be- 
come the altar of the so-called enfranchisement of na- 
tions, and upon this altar the intoxicated, unthinking 


DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 


9 


masses offered up to their new idol those who, until then, 
had been their lords and masters, and by whose death 
they now believed that they could purchase freedom for 
evermore. 

“ Egalite ! fraternite ! liberte ! ” Such was the bat- 
tle-cry of this howling, murdering populace. Such were 
the three words which burned in blood-red letters of fire 
above the guillotine, and their mocking emblem was the 
glittering axe, that flashed down, to sever from their bod- 
ies the heads of the aristocrats whom, in spite of the new 
religion represented in those three words, they w T ould not 
recognize as brethren and equals, or admit to the freedom 
of life and of opinion. And this battle-cry of the murder- 
ous French populace had penetrated as far as Martinique, 
where it had aroused the slaves from their sullen obedi- 
ence to the point of demanding by force that participa- 
tion in freedom, equality, and brotherhood, that had so 
long been denied them. They, at last, rose everywhere 
in open insurrection against their masters, and the fire- 
brands which they hurled into the dwellings of the 
whites served as the bridal torches to their espousal of 
liberty. 

The house of Madame Tascher de la Pagerie was one 
of the abodes in which these firebrands fell. 

One night Josephine was awakened by the blinding 
light of the flames, which had already penetrated to her 
chamber. With a shriek of terror, she sprang from her 
bed, caught up little Hortense in her arms from the 
couch where the child lay quietly slumbering, wrapped 


10 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


her in the bedclothes, and rushed, in her night-attire, 
from the house. She burst, with the lion-like courage of 
a mother, through the shouting, fighting crowds of sol- 
diers and blacks outside, and fled, with all the speed of 
mortal terror, toward the harbor. There lay a French 
vessel, just ready to weigh anchor. An officer, w T lio at 
that moment was stepping into the small boat that was 
to convey him to the departing ship, saw this young 
woman, as, holding her child tightly to her bosom, she 
sank down, with one last despairing cry, half inanimate, 
upon the beach. Filled with the deepest compassion, he 
hastened to her, and, raising both mother and child in 
his arms, he bore them to his boat, which then instantly 
put out from land, and bounded away over the billows 
with its lovely burden. 

The ship was soon reached, and Josephine, still 
tightly clasping her child to her breast, and happy in 
having saved this only jewel, climbed up the unsteady 
ladder to the ship’s decks. Until this moment all her 
thoughts remained concentrated upon her child, and it 
w^as only when she had seen her little Hortense safely 
put to bed in the cabin and free from all danger — only 
after she had fulfilled all the duties of a mother, that the 
woman revived in her breast, and she cast shamed and 
frightened glances around her. Only half-clad, in light, 
fluttering night-clothes, without any other covering to 
her beautiful neck and bosom than her superb, luxuriant 
hair, which fell around her and partly hid them, like a 
thick black veil, stood the young Viscountess Josephine 


DAYS OF CHILDHOOD. 


11 


de Beauliarnais, in the midst of a group of gazing 
men ! 

However, some of the ladies on the ship came to her 
aid, and, so soon as her toilet had been sufficiently im- 
proved, Josephine eagerly requested to be taken back to 
land, in order that she might fly to her mother’s assist- 
ance. 

But the captain opposed this request, as he was un- 
willing to give the young fugitive over to the tender 
mercies of the assassins who were burning and massa- 
cring ashore, and whose murderous yells could be dis- 
tinctly heard on board of the vessel. The entire coast, so 
far as the eye could reach, looked like another sea — a 
sea, though, of flame and smoke, which shot up its leap- 
ing billows in long tongues of fire far against the sky. 
It was a terrible, an appalling spectacle ; and Josephine 
fled from it to the bedside of her little sleeping daughter. 
Then, kneeling there by the couch of her child, she up- 
lifted to heaven her face, down which the tears were 
streaming, and implored God to spare her mother. 

But, meanwhile, the ship weighed anchor, and sped 
farther and farther away from this blazing coast. 

Josephine stood on the deck and gazed back at her 
mother’s burning home, which gradually grew less to her 
sight, then glimmered only like a tiny star on the distant 
horizon, and finally vanished altogether. With that last 
ray her childhood and past life had sunk forever in the 
sea, and a new world and a new life opened for both 
mother and child. The past was, like the ships of Cor- 
2 


12 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tez, burned behind her ; yet it threw a magic light far 
away over into her future, and as Josephine stood there 
with her little Hortense in her arms, and sent her last 
farewell to the island where her early days had been 
spent, she bethought her of the old mulatto-woman who 
had whispered in her ear one day : 

“ You will go back to France, and, ere long after 
that, all France will be at your feet. You will be 
greater there than a queen.” 


CHAPTER II. 

THE PROPHECY. 

It was toward the close of the year 1790 that Jose- 
phine, with her little daughter, Hortense, arrived in 
Paris and took up her residence in a small dwelling. 
There she soon received the intelligence of the rescue 
of her mother, and of the re-establishment of peace in 
Martinique. In France, however, the revolution and the 
guillotine still raged, and the banner of the Reign of 
Terror — the red flag — still cast its bloody shadow over 
Paris. Its inhabitants were terror-stricken ; no one knew 
in the evening that he would still be at liberty on the 
following day, or that he would live to see another sun- 
set. Death lay in wait at every door, and reaped its 
dread harvest in every house and in every family. In 
the face of these horrors, Josephine forgot all her earlier 


THE PROPHECY. 


13 


griefs, all the insults and humiliations to which she had 
been subjected by her husband ; the old love revived in 
her breast, and, as it might well be that on the morrow 
death would come knocking at her own door, she wished 
to devote the present moment to a reconciliation with 
her husband, and a reunion with her son. 

But all her attempts in this direction were in vain. 
The viscount had felt her flight to Martinique to be too 
grave an injury, too great an insult, to be now willing to 
consent to a reconciliation with his wife. Sympathizing 
friends arranged a meeting between them, without, how- 
ever, previously informing the viscount of their design. 
His anger was therefore great when, on entering the par- 
lor of Count Montmorin, in response to that gentleman’s 
invitation, he found there the wife he had so obstinately 
and wrathfully avoided. He was about to retire hastily, 
when a charming child rushed forward, greeted him ten- 
derly in silvery tones, and threw herself into his arms. 
The viscount was now powerless to fly ; he pressed his 
child, his Hortense, to his heart, and when the child, 
with a winning smile, entreated him to kiss her mamma 
as he had kissed her ; when he saw the beautiful counte- 
nance of Josephine wet with tears; when he heard his 
father’s voice saying, “My son, reconcile yourself with 
my daughter ! Josephine is my daughter, and I would 
not call her so if she were unworthy,” and when he saw 
his handsome son, Eugene, gazing, at him wistfully, his 
head resting on his mother’s shoulder, his heart relented. 
Leading little Hortense by the hand, he stepped forward 


14 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


to his wife, and, with a lond cry of joy and a blissful 
greeting of love, Josephine sank on his bosom. 

Peace was re-established, and husband and wife were 
now united in a closer bond of love than ever before. 
The storms seemed to have spent their rage, and the 
heaven of their happiness was clear and cloudless. But 
this heaven was soon to be overcast with the black shadow 
of the revolution. 

Yiscount Beauliarnais, returned by the nobility of 
Blois to the new legislative body, the Estates-General, re- 
signed this position, in order to serve his country with 
his sword instead of his tongue. With the rank of ad- 
jutant-general, he repaired to the Army of the North, 
accompanied by Josephine’s blessings and tears. A dread 
premonition told her that she would never see the gen- 
eral again, and this premonition did not deceive her. 
The spirit of anarchy and insurrection not only raged 
among the people of Paris, but also in the army. The 
aristocrats, who were given over to the guillotine in 
Paris, were also regarded with distrust and hatred in the 
army, and Yiscount Beauharnais, who, for his gallantry 
on the battle-field of Soissons, had been promoted to the 
position of commanding general, was accused by his own 
officers of being an enemy of France and of the new 
order of things. He was arrested, taken back to Paris, 
and thrown into the prison of the Luxembourg, where so 
many other victims of the revolution lay in confinement. 

The sad intelligence of her husband’s misfortune soon 
reached Josephine, and aroused her love to energetic 


THE PROPHECY. 


15 


action in his behalf. She mentally vowed to liberate her 
husband, the father of her children, or to die with him. 
She courageously confronted all dangers, all suspicions, 
and was happy when she found him in his prison, where 
she visited him, whispering words of consolation and 
hope in his ear. 

But at that time love and fidelity were also capital 
crimes, and Josephine’s guilt was twofold : first, because 
she was an aristocrat herself, and secondly, because she 
loved and wept for the fate of an aristocrat, and an al- 
leged traitor to his country. Josephine was arrested and 
thrown into the prison of St. Pelagie. 

Eugene and Hortense were now little better than 
orphans, for the prisoners of the Luxembourg and St. 
Pelagie, at that time, only left their prisons to mount the 
scaffold. Alone, deprived of all help, avoided by all 
whom they had once known and loved, the two children 
were threatened with misery, want, and even with hun- 
ger, for the estate of their parents had been confiscated, 
and, in the same hour in which Josephine was conducted 
to prison, the entrances and doors of their dwelling were 
sealed, and the poor children left to find a sheltering roof 
for themselves. But yet they were not entirely helpless, 
not quite friendless, for a friend of Josephine, a Madame 
Holstein, had the courage to come to the rescue, and 
take the children into her own family. 

But it was necessary to go to work cautiously and 
wisely, in order to avoid exciting the hatred and venge- 
ance of those who, coming from the scum of the peo- 


16 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


pie, were now the rulers of France. An imprudent 
word, a look, might suffice to cast suspicion upon, and 
render up to the guillotine, this good Madame Holstein, 
this courageous friend of the two children. It was in 
itself a capital crime that she had taken the children of 
the accused into her house, and it was therefore necessary 
to adopt every means of conciliating the authorities. It 
was thought necessary that Hortense should, in company 
with her protectress, attend the festivals and patriotic 
processions, that were renewed at every decade in honor 
of the one and indivisible republic, but she was never re- 
quired to take an active part in these celebrations. She 
was not considered worthy to figure among the daughters 
of the people ; she had not yet been forgiven for being 
the daughter of a viscount, of an imprisoned ci-devant. 
Eugene had been apprenticed to a carpenter, and the son 
of the viscount was now often seen walking through the 
streets in a blouse, carrying a board on his shoulder or a 
saw under his arm. 

While the children of the accused were thus enjoying 
temporary security, the future of their parents was grow- 
ing darker and darker, and not only the life of the gen- 
eral, but also that of his wife, was now seriously endan- 
gered. Josephine had been removed from the prison of 
St. Pelagie to that of the Carmelites, and this brought 
her a step nearer the scaffold. But she did not tremble 
for herself, she thought only of her children and her 
husband ; she wrote affectionate letters to the former, 
which she bribed her jailer to forward to their destina- 


THE PROPHECY. 


IT 


tion, but all her efforts to place herself in communication 
with her husband were abortive. One day she received 
the fearful intelligence that her husband had just been 
conducted before the revolutionary tribunal. Josephine 
waited for further intelligence in an agony of suspense. 
Had this tribunal acquitted her husband, or had it con- 
demned him to death? Was he already free, or was he 
free in a higher sense — was he dead ? If he were free, 
he would have foiiiid means to inform her of the fact; 
and if he were dead, his name would certainly have been 
mentioned in the list of the condemned. In this agony 
of suspense, Josephine passed the long day. Night came, 
but brought no rest for her and her companions in misery 
— the other occupants of the prison — who also looked 
death in the face, and who watched with her throughout 
the long night. 

The society assembled in this prison was brilliant and 
select. There were the Dowager Duchess de Choiseul, 
the Viscountess de Maille, whose seventeen-years-old 
daughter had just been guillotined ; there was the Mar- 
quise de Cr6qui, the intellectual lady who has often been 
called the last marquise of the widen regime , and who 
in her witty memoirs wrote the French history of the 
eighteenth century as viewed from an aristocratic stand- 
point. There was Abbe Texier, who, when the revolu- 
tionists threatened him with the lantern, because he had 
refused to take the oath of allegiance to the new consti- 
tution, replied: “Will you see any better after having 
hung me to the lantern ? ” And there was yet another, 


18 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


a M. Duvivier, a pupil of Cagliostro, who, like his mas- 
ter, could read the future, and with the assistance of a 
decanter full of water and a “ dove,” that is, an innocent 
young girl of less than seven, could solve the mysteries 
of fate. 

To him, to the Grand Cophta, Josephine now ad- 
dressed herself after this day of dread uncertainty, and 
demanded information of the fate of her husband. 

In the stillness of the night the gloomy, desolate hall 
of the prison now presented a strange aspect. The jailer, 
bribed with an assignat of fifty francs, then worth only 
forty sous, however, had consented that his little six- 
years-old daughter should serve the Grand Cophta as 
“ dove,” and had made all other preparations. A table 
stood in the middle of the hall, on which was a decanter 
filled with clear, fresh water, around which were three 
candles in the form of a triangle, and placed as near the 
decanter as possible, in order that the dove should be 
able to see the better. The little girl, just aroused from 
sleep and brought from her bed in her night-gown, sat 
on a chair close to the table, and behind her stood the 
earnest, sombre figure of the Grand Cophta. Around 
the table stood the prisoners, these duchesses and mar- 
quises, these ladies of the court of Versailles who had 
preserved their aristocratic manners in the prison, and 
were even here so strictly observant of etiquette, that 
those of them who had enjoyed the honor of the tabou- 
ret in the Tuileries, were here accorded the same prece- 
dence, and all possible consideration shown them. 


THE PROPHECY. 


19 


On the other side of the table, in breathless suspense, 
her large, dark eyes fastened on the child with a touch- 
ing expression, stood the unhappy Josephine, and, at 
some distance behind the ladies, the jailer with his wife. 

Now t the Grand Cophta laid both hands on the child’s 
head and cried in a loud voice, “ Open your eyes and 
look!” 

The child turned pale and shuddered as it fixed its 
gaze on the decanter. 

“ What do you see ? ” asked the Grand Cophta. “ I 
want you to look into the prison of General Beauliarnais. 
What do you see ? ” 

“ I see a little room,” said the child with vivacity. 
“ On a cot lies a young man who sleeps ; at his side 
stands another man, writing on a sheet of paper that lies 
on a large book.” 

“ Can you read ? ” 

“No, citizen. Now the man cuts ofi his hair, and 
folds it in the paper.” 

“ The one who sleeps ? ” 

“ No, the one wdio was just now writing. He is now 
writing something on the back of the paper in which he 
wrapped the hair ; now he opens a little red pocket-book, 
and takes papers out of it ; they are assignats, he counts 
them and then puts them back in the pocket-book. Now 
he rises and walks softly, softly.” 

“ What do you mean by softly $ You have not heard 
the slightest noise as yet, have you ? ” 

“ No, but he walks through the room on tiptoe.” 


20 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“ Wliat do you see now \ ” 

u He now covers his face with his hands and seems 
to be weeping.” 

“ But what did he do with his pocket-book ? ” 

“Ah, he has put the pocket book and the package 
with the hair in the pocket of the coat that lies on the 
sleeping man’s bed.” 

“ Of what color is this coat ? ” 

“ I cannot see, exactly ; it is red or brown, lined with 
blue silk and covered with shining buttons.” 

“ That will do,” said the Grand Coplita ; “ you can 
go to bed, child.” 

He stooped down over the child and breathed on her 
forehead. The little girl seemed to awaken as from a 
trance, and hurried to her parents, who led her from the 
hall. 

“ General Beauharnais still lives!” said the Grand 
Cophta, addressing Josephine. 

“ Yes, he still lives,” cried she, sadly, “ but he is pre- 
paring for death.” * 

Josephine was right. A few days later Duchess 
d’Anville received a package and a letter. It was sent 
to her by a prisoner in La Force, named De Legrois. 
He had occupied the same cell with General Beauharnais 
and had found the package and the letter, addressed to 
the duchess, in his pocket on the morning of the execu- 
tion of the general. 

* This scene is exactly as represented by the Marquise de Crequi, 
who was present and relates it in her memoirs, vol. vi., p. 238 . 


THE PROPHECY. 


21 


In this letter the general conjured Duchess D’An- 
ville to deliver to Josephine the package which con- 
tained his hair and his last adieus to wife and children. 

This was the only inheritance which General Beau- 
liarnais could bequeath to his Josephine and her unhappy 
children ! 

Josephine was so agitated by the sight of her hus- 
band’s hair and his last fond words of adieu, that she 
fainted away, a stream of blood gushing from her mouth. 

Her companions in misfortune vied with each other 
in giving her the most tender attention, and demanded of 
the jailer that a physician should be called. 

“ Why a physician ! ” said the man, indifferently. 
“ Death is the best physician. He called the general to- 
day ; in a few days he will restore to him his wife.” 

This prophecy was almost verified. Josephine, scarce- 
ly recovered from her illness, received her citation from 
the Tribunal of Terror. This was the herald of certain 
death, and she courageously prepared for the grave, 
troubled only by thoughts of the children she must leave 
behind. 

A fortunate and unforeseen occurrence saved her. 
The men of the revolution had now attained the summit 
of their power, and, as there was no standing still for them, 
they sank into the abyss which themselves had digged. 

The fall of Robespierre opened the prisons and set at 
liberty thousands of the already condemned victims of 
the revolution. 

Yiscountess Josephine left her prison; she was re- 


22 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


stored to liberty, and could now hasten to her children, 
but she came back to them as a poor widow, for the 
seals of the “ one and indivisible republic ” were on hers 
and her children’s property as well as on that of all other 
aristocrats. 


CHAPTER III. 

CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 

France drew a breath of relief ; the Reign of Terror 
was at an end, and a milder and more moderate govern- 
ment wielded the sceptre over the poor land that had so 
lately lain in the agonies of death. It was no longer a 
capital offence to bear an aristocratic name, to be better 
dressed than the sans-culottes , to wear no Jacobin-cap, 
and to be related to the emigrants. The guillotine, which 
had ruled over Paris during two years of blood and 
tears, now rested from its horrid work, and allowed the 
Parisians to think of something else besides making their 
wills and preparing for death. 

Mindful of the uncertainty of the times, the people 
were disposed to make the most of this release from the 
fear of immediate death, and to enjoy themselves to the 
utmost while they could. 

They had so long wept, that they eagerly desired to 
laugh once more ; so long lived in sorrow and fear, that 
they now ardently longed for amusement and relaxation. 
The beautiful women of Paris, who had been dethroned 


CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 23 

by the guillotine, and from whose hands the reins had 
been torn, now found the courage to grasp these reins 
again, and reconquer the position from which the storm- 
wind of the revolution had hurled them. 

Madame Tallien, the all-powerful wife of one of the 
five directors who now swayed the destinies of France ; 
Madame Recamier, the friend of all the eminent and dis- 
tinguished men of that period ; and Madame de Stael, 
the daughter of Hecker, and the wife of the ambassador 
of Sweden, whose government had recognized the re- 
public — these three ladies gave to Paris its drawing- 
rooms, its reunions, its fetes, its fashions, and its luxury. 
All Paris had assumed a new form, and, although the 
Church had not yet again obtained official recognition, 
the belief in a Supreme Being was already re-established. 
Robespierre had already been bold enough to cause the 
inscription, “ There is a Supreme Being,” to be placed 
over the altars of the churches that had been converted 
into “ Temples of Reason.” Yes, there is a Supreme 
Being ; and Robespierre, who had first acknowledged its 
existence, was soon to experience in himself that Such 
was the case. Betrayed by his ow T n associates, and 
charged by them with desiring to make himself dictator, 
and place himself at the head of the new Roman-French 
Republic as a new Caesar, Robespierre fell a prey to the 
Tribunal of Terror which he himself had called into ex- 
istence. While engaged in the Hotel de Yille in signing 
death-sentences which were to furnish fresh victims to 
the guillotine, he was arrested by the Jacobins and Ha- 


24 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tional Guards, who had stormed the gates and penetrated 
into the building, and the attempt to blow out his brains 
with his pistol miscarried. Bleeding, his jaw shattered 
by the bullet, he was dragged before Fouquier-Tainville 
to receive his sentence, and to be conducted thence to the 
scaffold. In order that the proceeding should be attended 
with all formalities, he was, however, first conducted to 
the Tuileries, where the Committee of Public Safety was 
then sitting in the chamber of Queen Marie Antoinette. 
Into the bedchamber of the queen whom Robespierre 
had brought to the scaffold, the bleeding, half-lifeless 
dictator was now dragged. Like a bundle of rags he was 
contemptuously thrown on the large table that stood in 
the middle of the room. But yesterday Robespierre had 
been enthroned at this table as almighty ruler over the 
lives and possessions of all Frenchmen ; but yesterday he 
had here issued his decrees and signed the death-sen- 
tences, that lay on the table, unexecuted. These papers 
were now the only salve the ghastly, groaning man could 
apply to the wound in his face, from which blood poured 
in streams. The death-sentences signed by himself now 
drank his own blood, and he had nothing but a rag of a 
tricolor, thrown him by a compassionate sans-culotte, 
with which to bind up the great, gaping wound on his 
head. As he sat there in the midst of the blood-saturated 
papers, bleeding, groaning, and complaining, an old Na- 
tional Guard, with outstretched arms, pointing to this 
ghastly object, cried : “ Yes, Robespierre was right. 
There is a Supreme Being 1 ” 


CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 25 

This period of blood and terror was now over ; Robes- 
pierre was dead ; Theroigne de Mericourt was no longer 
the Goddess of Reason, and Mademoiselle Maillard no 
longer Goddess of Liberty and Virtue. Women had 
given up representing divinities, and desired to be them- 
selves again, and to rebuild in the drawing-rooms of the 
capital, by means of their intellect and grace, the throne 
which had gone down in the revolution. 

Madame Tallien, Madame Recamier, and Madame de 
Stael, reorganized society, and all were anxious to obtain 
admission to their parlors. To be sure, these entertain- 
ments and reunions still wore a sufficiently strange and 
fantastic appearance. Fashion, which had so long been 
compelled to give way to the carmagnole and red cap, 
endeavored to avenge its long banishment by all manner 
of caprices and humors, and in doing so assumed a polit- 
ical, reactionary aspect. Coiffures a la Jacobine were 
now supplanted by coiffures a la mctime and au rejoentir . 
In order to exhibit one’s taste for the fine arts, the draper- 
ies of the statues of Greece and ancient Rome were now 
worn. Grecian fetes were given, at which the black 
soup of Lycurgus was duly honored, and Roman feasts 
which, in splendor and extravagance, rivalled those of 
Lucullus. These Roman feasts were particularly in 
vogue at the palace of Luxembourg, where the directors 
of the republic had now taken up their residence, and 
where Madame Tallien exhibited to the new French so- 
ciety the new wonders of luxury and fashion. Too 
proud to wear the generally-adopted costume of the Gre- 


26 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


cian republic, Madame Tallien chose the attire of the 
Roman patrician lady ; and the gold-embroidered purple 
robes, and the golden tiara in her black, shining hair, 
gave to the charming and beautiful daughter of the re- 
public the magnificence of an empress. She had also 
drawn around her a splendid court. All eagerly pressed 
forward to pay their respects to and obtain the good 
will of the mighty wife of the mighty Tallien. Her 
house was the great point of attraction to all those who 
occupied prominent positions in Paris, or aspired to such. 
While in the parlors of Madame Recamier, who, despite 
the revolution, had remained a zealous royalist, the past 
and the good time of the Bourbons were whispered of, 
and witty and often sanguinary bon mots at the expense 
of the republic uttered — while in Madame de Stael’s par- 
lors art and science had found an asylum — Madame Tal- 
lien and court lived for the present, and basked in the 
splendor with which she knew how to invest the palace 
of the dictators of France. 

In the mean while, Viscountess Josephine Beauhar- 
nais had been living, with her children, in quiet retire- 
ment, a prey to sad memories. A day came, however, 
when she was compelled to tear herself from this last 
consolation of the unhappy, the brooding over the sor- 
rows and losses of the past, or see her children become 
the victims of misery and want. The time had come 
when she must leave her retirement, and step, as a peti- 
tioner, before those who had the power to grant, as a 
favor, that which was hers by right, and restore to her, at 


CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 27 

least in part, lier sequestered estate. Josephine had 
known Madame Tallien when she was still Madame de 
Fontenay, and it now occurred to her that she might 
assist her in her attempt to recover the inheritance of 
her father. Madame Tallien, the “ Merveilleuse de Lux- 
embourg,” also called by her admirers, “ Kotre-dame de 
Thermidor,” felt much flattered at being called on by a 
real viscountess, who had filled a distinguished position 
at the court of King Louis. She therefore received her 
with great amiability, and endeavored to make the 
charming and beautiful viscountess her friend. But 
Josephine found that estates were more easily lost than 
recovered. The republic, one and indivisible, was always 
ready to take, but not to give ; and, even with the kindly 
offices of Madame Tallien freely exerted in her behalf, it 
w r as some time before Josephine succeeded in recovering 
her estate. In the mean time, she really suffered want, and 
she and her children w T ere compelled to bear the hard- 
ships and mortifications which poverty brings in its 
train. But true friends still remained to her in her mis- 
ery ; friends who, with true delicacy, furnished her with 
the prime necessities of life— with food and clothing for 
herself and children. In general, it was characteristic of 
this period that no one felt humiliated by accepting bene- 
fits of this kind from his friends. Those who had lost 
all had not done so through their own fault ; and those 
who had saved their property out of the general wreck 
could not attribute their fortune to their own merit or 

wisdom, but merely to chance. They therefore consid- 
3 


28 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ered it a sacred duty to divide with those who had been 
less fortunate; and the latter would point with pride 
to the poverty which proved that they had been true to 
themselves and principle, and accept what friendship 
offered. This was the result of a kind of community 
of property, to which the revolution had given birth. 
Those who had possessions considered it their duty to 
divide with those who had not, and the latter regarded 
this division rather as a right than as a benefit conferred. 

Josephine could, therefore, accept the assistance of 
her friends without blushing ; she could, with propriety, 
allow Madame de Montmorin to provide for the ward- 
robe of herself and daughter; and she and Hortense 
could accept the invitation of Madame Dumoulin to dine 
with her twice a week. There, at Madame Dumoulin’s, 
were assembled, on certain days, a number of friends, 
who had been robbed of their fortunes by the storms of 
the revolution. Madame Dumoulin, the wife of a rich 
army-contractor, gave these dinners to her friends, but 
each guest was expected to bring with him his own 
white-bread. White-bread was, at that time, considered 
one of the greatest dainties ; for, there being a scarcity 
of grain, a law had been proclaimed allotting to each sec- 
tion of Paris a certain amount of bread, and providing 
that no individual should be entitled to purchase more 
than two ounces daily. It had, therefore, become the 
general custom to add the following to all invitations : 
“You are requested to bring your white bread with 
you,” for the reason that no more than the allotted two 


CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 


29 


ounces could be bad for money, and that amount cost 
the purchaser dearly.* Josephine, however, had not 
even the money to buy the portion allowed her by law. 
An exception to this rule was, however, made in favor 
of Josephine and Hortense ; and at Madame Dumoulin’s 
dinners the hostess always provided white bread for 
them, and for them alone of all her guests. Viscountess 
Beauharnais was soon, however, to be freed from this 
want. One day when she had been invited by Madame 
Tallien to dinner, and had walked to the palace with 
Hortense, Tallien informed her that the government had 
favorably considered her petition, and was willing to 
make some concessions to the widow of a true patriot 
who had sealed his devotion to principle with his blood ; 
that he had procured an ordinance from the administra- 
tion of domains, pursuant to which the seals were at once 
to be removed from her furniture and other personal 
property, and that the republic had remitted to her, 
through him, an order on the treasury for her relief, 
until the sequestration of her landed estates should be 
annulled, which he expected would soon take place. 

Josephine found no words in which to express her 
thanks. She pressed her daughter to her heart and cried 
out, her face bathed in tears : “ We shall at last be 
happy ! My children shall no longer suffer want ! ” 
This time the tears Josephine shed were tears of joy, the 
first in long years. 

* Memoires de Monsieur de Bourrienne sur Napoleon, etc., vol. i., 

p. 80. 


30 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Care and want were now over. Josephine could now 
give her children an education suitable to their rank ; 
she could now once more assume the position in society 
to which her beauty, youth, amiability, and name entitled 
her. She no longer came to Madame Tallien’s parlor as 
a suppliant, she was now its ornament, and all were 
eager to do homage to the adored friend of Madame 
Tallien, to the beautiful and charming viscountess. But 
Josephine preferred the quiet bliss of home-life in the 
circle of her children to the brilliant life of society ; she 
gradually withdrew from the noisy circles of the outer 
world, in order that she might, in peaceful retirement, 
devote herself to the cultivation of the hearts and minds 
of her promising children. 

Eugene was now a youth of sixteen years, and, as his 
personal security no longer required him to deny his 
name and rank, he had left his master’s carpenter-shop, 
and laid aside his blouse. He was preparing himself for 
military service under the instruction of excellent teach- 
ers, whom he astonished by his zeal and rare powers of 
comprehension. The military renown and heroic deeds 
of France filled him with enthusiasm ; and one day, while 
speaking with his teacher of the deeds of Turenne, Eu- 
gene exclaimed with sparkling eyes and glowing counte- 
nance : “ I too will become a gallant general, some day ! ” 

Hortense, now a girl of twelve years, lived with her 
mother, who was scarcely thirty years old, in the sweet 
companionship of an elder and younger sister. They 
were inseparable companions ; Nature had given Hor- 


CONSEQUENCES OF THE REVOLUTION. 


31 


tense beauty with a lavish hand ; her mother gave to this, 
beauty grace and dignity. Competent teachers instructed 
her daughter’s intellect, while the mother cultivated her 
heart. Early accustomed to care and want, this child had 
not the giddy, thoughtless disposition usually character- 
istic of girls of her age. She had too early gained an in- 
sight into the uncertainty and emptiness of all earthly mag- 
nificence, not to appreciate the littleness of those things 
upon which young girls usually place so high an estimate. 
Her thoughts were not occupied with the adornment of 
her person, and she did not bend her young head be- 
neath the yoke of capricious fashion : for her, there were 
higher and nobler enjoyments, and Hortense was never 
happier than when her mother dispensed with her attend- 
ance at the entertainments at the house of Madame Tallien 
or Madame Barras, and permitted her to remain at home, 
to amuse herself with her books and harp in a better and 
more useful, if not in a more agreeable manner, than she 
could have done in the brilliant parlors to which her 
mother had repaired. Early matured in the school of 
experience and suffering, the girl of twelve had acquired 
a womanly earnestness and resolution, and yet her noble 
and chaste features still wore the impress of childhood, 
and in her large blue eyes reposed a whole heaven of 
innocence and peace. When she sat with her harp at 
the window in the evening twilight, the last rays of the 
setting sun gilding her sweet countenance, and surround- 
ing as with a halo her beautiful blond hair, Josephine 
imagined she saw before her one of those angel-forms of 


32 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


innocence and love which the poet and painter portray. 
In a kind of trance she listened to the sweet sounds and 
melodies which Hortense lured from her harp, and ac- 
companied with the silvery tones of her voice, in words 
composed by herself, half-childish prayer, half rhapsody 
of love, and revealing the most secret thoughts of the 
fair young being who stood on the threshold of woman- 
hood, bidding adieu to childhood with a blissful smile, 
and dreaming of the future. 


CHAPTER IV. 

GENERAL BUONAPARTE. 

While Josephine de Beauharnais, after the trials of 
these long and stormy years, was enjoying blissful days 
of quiet happiness and repose, the gusts of revolution 
kept bursting forth from time to time in fits of fury, and 
tranquillity continued far from being permanently re- 
stored. The clubs, those liot-beds of the revolution, still 
exercised their pestilential influence over the populace of 
Paris, and stirred the rude masses incessantly to fresh 
paroxysms of discontent and disorder. 

But already the man had been found who was to 
crush those wild masses in his iron grasp, and dash the 
speakers of the clubs down into the dust with the flash- 
ing master-glance of his resistless eye. 

That man was Napoleon Buonaparte. He was hardly 


GENERAL BUONAPARTE. 


33 


twenty-nine years of age, yet already all France was talk- 
ing of him as a hero crowned with laurels, already had 
he trodden a brilliant career of victory. As commander 
of a battalion he had performed prodigies of valor at the 
recapture of Toulon ; and then, after being promoted to 
the rank of general, had gone to the army in Italy on be- 
half of the republic. Bedecked with the laurels of his 
Italian campaign, the young general of five-and-twenty 
had returned to France. There, the government, being 
still hostile and ill-disposed toward him, wished to re- 
move him from Paris, and send him to La Vendee as a 
brigadier-general. Buonaparte declined this mission, be- 
cause he preferred remaining in the artillery service, and, 
for that reason, the government of the republic relieved 
him of his duties and put him on half-pay. 

So, Buonaparte remained in Paris and waited. He 
waited for the brilliant star that was soon to climb the 
firmament for him, and shed the fulness of its rays over 
the whole world. Perhaps, the secret voices which whis- 
pered in his breast of a dazzling future, and a fabulous 
career of military glory, had already announced the rising 
of his star. 

So Buonaparte lived on in Paris, and waited. He 
there passed quiet, retired, and inactive days, associating 
with a few devoted friends only, who aided him, with 
delicate tact, in his restricted circumstances. For Buona- 
parte was poor ; he had lost his limited means in the tem- 
pests of the revolution, and all that he possessed consisted 
of the laurels he had won on the battle-field, and his half 


31 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


pay as a brigadier-general. But, like the Viscountess 
de Beauharnais, Napoleon bad some true friends who 
deemed it an honor to receive him as a guest at their 
table, and also, like Josephine, he was too poor to bring 
his wheaten loaf with him to the dinners that he at- 
tended, as was then the prevailing custom. He often 
dined, in company with his brother Louis, at the house 
of his boyhood’s friend Bourrienne, and his future secre- 
tary was at that time still his host, favored of the gods. 
The young general, instead of, like his brother, bringing 
his wheaten loaf, brought only his ration, which was rye- 
bread, and this he always abandoned to his brother Louis, 
who was very fond of it, while Madame Bourrienne took 
care that he should invariably find his supply of white- 
bread at his plate. She had managed to get some flour 
smuggled into Paris from her husband’s estate, and had 
white-bread made of it secretly, at the pastry-cook’s. 
Had this been discovered, it would inevitably have pre^ 
pared the way for all of them to the scaffold. 

Thus, then, young General Buonaparte, or, as he sub- 
sequently wrote the name himself, “ Bonaparte,” passed 
quiet days of expectation, hoping that, should the exist- 
ing government, so hostile to him, be suppressed by an- 
other, his wishes might be at last fulfilled. These wishes 
were, by the way, of a rather unpretending character. 
“If I could only live here quietly, at Paris,” he once 
remarked to his friend Bourrienne, “ and rent that pretty 
little house yonder, opposite to my friends, and keep a 
carriage besides, I should be the happiest of men ! ” 


GENERAL BUONAPARTE. 


35 


He was quite seriously entertaining the idea of rent- 
ing the “ pretty little house ” in common with his uncle 
Fesch, afterward the cardinal, when the important events 
that soon shook Paris once more prevented him, and the 
famous 13th Yendemiaire, 1795, again summoned the 
young general away from his meditations to stern prac- 
tical activity. It was on that day, the 13th Yendemiaire 
(October 5th), that there came the outburst of the storm, 
the subterranean rumblings of which had been so long 
perceptible. The sections of Paris rose against the Na- 
tional Convention which had given France a new consti- 
tution, and so fixed it that two thirds of the members of 
the Convention should reappear in the new legislative 
body. The sections of Paris, however, were prepared to 
accept the new constitution only when it provided that 
the legislative body should spring from fresh elections 
entirely. The Convention, thus assailed in its ambitious 
hankering for power, was resolved to stand its ground, 
and called upon the representatives who commanded the 
armed forces, to defend the republic of their creation. 
Barras was appointed the first general commanding the 
Army of the Interior, and Bonaparte the second. It was 
not long before a ferocious conflict broke out in the 
streets between the army and the insurgent sections. At 
that time the populace were not always so ready, as they 
have been since then, to tear up the pavements for barri- 
cades, and the revolters, put to flight by the terrible fire 
and the fierce onset of the artillery, made the Church of 
St. Roch and the Palais Royal their defensive points ; but 


36 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


they were driven from them also ; the struggle in the 
streets recommenced, and streams of blood had to flow 
ere it was over. 

After the lapse of two days order was restored, and 
Barras declared to the triumphant National Convention 
that the victory over the insurgents was chiefly due to 
the comprehensive and gallant conduct of General Bona- 
parte. 

The National Convention, as a token of gratitude, 
conferred upon the latter the permanent position of sec- 
ond general of the Army of the Interior, which had been 
allotted to him temporarily, only on the day of peril. 
From that moment, Bonaparte emerged from obscurity ; 
his name had risen above the horizon ! 

He now had a position, and he could better compre- 
hend the whispering voices that sang within his bosom 
the proud, triumphant song of his future career. He 
was now already conscious that he had a shining goal be- 
fore his gaze — a goal to which he dared not yet assign a 
title, that flitted about him like a dazzling fairy tale, and 
which he swore to make reality at last. 

One day, there came to the headquarters of the young 
general-in-chief a young man who very pressingly asked 
to see him. Bonaparte had him admitted, and the dig- 
nified form, the courageous, fiery glance, the noble, hand- 
some countenance of the stranger, at once prepossessed 
him in the young man’s favor, and he forthwith ques- 
tioned him in gentle, friendly tones, concerning the object 
of his visit. 


GENERAL BUONAPARTE. 


37 


“ General,” said the young man, “ my name is Eugene ' 
Beauharnais, and I have served the republic on the Rhine. 
My father was denounced before the Committee of Pub- 
lic Safety as a suspect , and given over to the Revolution- 
ary Tribunal, who had him murdered, three days before 
the fall of Robespierre.” 

“ Murdered ! ” exclaimed Bonaparte, in threatening 
tones. 

“ Yes, general, murdered ! ” repeated Eugene, with 
resolution. “ I come now to request, in the name of my 
mother, that you will have the kindness to bring your in- 
fluence to bear upon the committee, to induce them to 
give me back my father’s sword. I will faithfully use it 
in fighting the enemies of my country and defending the 
cause of the republic.” 

These proud and noble words called up a gentle, 
kindly smile to the stern, pale face of the young general, 
and the fiery flash of his eyes grew softer. 

“ Good ! young man, very good ! ” he said. “ I like 
this spirit, and this filial tenderness. The sword of your 
father — the sword of General Beauharnais — shall be re- 
stored to you. Wait ! ” 

With this, he called one of his adjutants, and gave 
him the necessary commands. A short time only had 
elapsed, when the adjutant returned, bringing with him 
the sword of General Beauharnais. 

Bonaparte himself handed it to Eugene. The young 
man, overwhelmed with strong emotion, pressed the 
weapon — the sole, dear possession of his father — to his 


38 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


lips and to his heart, and tears of sacred emotion started 
into his eyes. 

Instantly the general stepped to his side, and his slen- 
der white hand, which knew so well how to wield the 
sword, and yet was as soft, as delicate, and as trans- 
parent as the hand of a duchess, rested lightly on Eu- 
gene’s shoulder. 

“ My young friend,” said he, in that gentle tone which 
won all hearts to him, “ I should be very happy could I 
do anything for you or your family.” 

Eugene gazed at him with an expression of childish 
amazement. “ Good general ! ” he managed to say ; “ then 
mamma and my sister will pray for you.” 

This ingenuousness made the general smile ; and, 
w T ith a friendly nod, he desired Eugene to offer his 
respects to his mother, and to call upon him soon 
again. 

This meeting of Eugene and General Bonaparte was 
the commencement of the acquaintanceship between 
Bonaparte and Josephine. The sword of the guillotined 
General Beauharnais placed an imperial crown upon the 
head of his widow, and adorned the brows of his son and 
his daughter with royal diadems. 


THE MARRIAGE. 


39 


CHAPTER Y. 

THE MARRIAGE. 

A few days after this interview between Bonaparte 
and Eugene, Josephine met Bonaparte at one of the 
brilliant soirees given by Barras, the first general-in-chief. 
She asked Barras to introduce her to the young general, 
and then, in her usual frank manner, utterly the opposite 
of all prudery, yet none the less delicate and decorous, 
extending her hand to Bonaparte, she thanked him, with 
the tender warmth of a mother, for the friendliness and 
kindness he had manifested to her son. 

The general looked with wondering admiration at this 
young and beautiful woman, who claimed to be the 
mother of a lad grown up to manhood. Her enchanting 
face beamed with youth and beauty, and a sea of warmth 
and passion streamed from her large, dark eyes, while the 
gentle, love-enticing smile that played around her mouth 
revealed the tender feminine gentleness and amiability of 
her disposition. Bonaparte had never mastered the art 
of flattering women in the light, frivolous style of the 
fashionable coxcomb ; and when he attempted it his com- 
pliments were frequently of so unusual and startling a 
character that they might just as well contain an affront 
as a tribute of eulogy. 

“ Ah ! ah ! How striking that looks ! ” he once said, 
while he was emperor, to the charming Duchess de Chev- 
reuse. “ What remarkable red hair you have ! ” 


40 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“ Possibly so, sire/’ she replied, “ but this is the first 
time that a man ever told me so.” 

And the duchess was right ; for her hair was not red, 
but of a very handsome blond.* 

To another lady, whose round, white arms pleased 
him, he once said : “ Ah, good Heavens, what red arms 
you have ! ” Then, again, to another : “ What beautiful 
hair you have ; but what an ugly head-dress that is ! 
Who could have put it up for you in such ridiculous 
style ? ” 

Bonaparte, as I have said, did not know how to compli- 
ment women with words ; but Josephine well understood 
the flattering language that his eyes addressed to her. 
She knew that she had, in that very hour, conquered the 
bold young lion, and she felt proud and happy at the 
thought; for the unusually imposing appearance of the 
young hero had awakened her own heart, which she had 
thought was dead, to livelier palpitations. 

From that time forth they saw each other more fre- 
quently, and, ere long, Josephine heard from Bonaparte’s 
own lips the glowing confession of his love. She recip- 
rocated it, and promised him her hand. In vain her 
powerful friends, Tallien and Barras, endeavored to dis- 
suade her from marrying this young, penniless general ; 
in vain did they remind her that he might be killed in 
the very next battle, and that she might thus again be 

* The Duchess de Chevreuse was shortly afterward banished to 
Tours, because she refused to serve as a lady of honor to the Queen of 
Spain. 


THE MARRIAGE. 


41 


left a reduced widow. Josephine shook her handsome 
curls, with a peculiar smile. Perhaps she was thinking 
of the prophecy of the negress at Martinique ; perhaps 
she had read in the fiery glances of Bonaparte’s eye, and 
on his broad, thoughtful brow, that he might be the very 
man to bring that prophecy to its consummation ; per- 
haps she loved him ardently enough to prefer an humble 
lot, when shared with him, to any richer or more brilliant 
alliance. The representations of her friends did not 
frighten her away, and she remained firm in her deter- 
mination to become the wife of the young general, poor 
as he was. Their wedding-day was fixed, and both has- 
tened with joyous impatience to make their modest little 
preparations for their new housekeeping establishment. 
Yet Bonaparte had not been able to complete his dream 
of happiness; he possessed neither house nor carriage, 
and Josephine, too, was without an equipage. 

Thus both of them often had to content themselves 
with going on foot through the streets, and it may be 
that, in this halcyon period of their felicity, they re- 
garded the circumstance rather as a favor than as a scurvy 
trick of Fortune. Their tender and confidential com- 
munications were not disturbed by the loud rattle of the 
wheels, and they were not obliged to interrupt their 
sweet interchange of sentiment while getting into and 
out of a vehicle. Arm-in-arm, they strolled together 
along the promenades, he smiling proudly when the 
passers-by broke out in spontaneous exclamations of de- 
light at Josephine’s beauty, and she happy and exultant 


42 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


as she overheard the whispered admiration and respect 
with which the multitude everywhere greeted Bonaparte, 
as she pressed with the general through the throng. 

One day, Bonaparte accompanied the viscountess on a 
visit to Bagideau, the smallest man hut the greatest law- 
yer in Paris. He had been the business attorney of the 
Beauliarnais family for a long time, and J osephine now 
wished to withdraw from his hands, for her own dis- 
posal, a sum of money belonging to her that had been 
deposited with him. Bonaparte remained in the ante- 
room while Josephine went into the adjoining apartment, 
which was Bagideau’s office. 

“ I ^have come to tell you that I am going to marry 
again,” said Josephine, with her winning smile, to Bagi- 
deau. 

The little attorney gave a friendly nod, as he. replied : 
“ You do well, and I congratulate you with all my heart, 
viscountess, for I am satisfied that you have made no 
other than a worthy choice.” 

“ Undoubtedly, a very worthy choice,” exclaimed 
Josephine, with the proud and happy look of a person 
really in love. “ My future husband is' General Bona- 
parte ! ” 

The little great man (of a lawyer) fairly started with 
alarm. “ How ? ” said he, “ You ! — the Viscountess Beau- 
liarnais, you — marry this little General Bonaparte, this 
general of the republic, which has already deposed him 
once, and may depose him again to-morrow, and throw 
him back into insignificance ? ” 


THE MARRIAGE. 


43 


Josephine’s only reply was this : “ I love him.” 

“Yes, yon love him, now,” exclaimed Ragideau, 
warmly. “ But you are wrong in marrying him, and you 
will, one day, rue it. You are committing a folly, vis- 
countess, for you want to marry a man who has nothing 
but his hat and his sword.” 

“ But who also has a future,” said Josephine, gayly, 
and then, turning the conversation, she began to speak of 
the practical matters that had brought her thither. 

When her business with the notary had been con- 
cluded, Josephine returned to the anteroom where Bona- 
parte was waiting for her. He came, smiling, to meet 
her, but, at the same moment, he gave the notary, who 
was with her, so fierce and wrathful a glance that the 
latter shrank back in consternation. Josephine also re- 
marked that Bonaparte’s countenance was paler that 
day than usual, and that he was less communicative and 
less disposed to chat with her ; but she had already 
learned that it was not advisable to question him as to 
the cause of his different moods. So, she kept silent on 
that score, and her cheerfulness and amiability soon 
drove away the clouds that had obscured the general’s 
brow. 

The nuptials of Bonaparte and Josephine followed, 
on the 9th of March, 1796, and the witnesses, besides 
Eugene and Hortense, Josephine’s children, were Barras, 
Jean Lemarois, Tallien, Calmelet, and Leclerq. The 
marriage-contract contained, along with the absolutely 

requisite facts of the case, a very pleasant piece of fiat- 
4 


44 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tery for Josephine, since, in order to establish an equality 
of ages between the two parties, Bonaparte had him- 
self put down a year older, and Josephine four years 
younger, than they really were. Bonaparte was not, as 
the contract states, born on the 5th of February, 1768, 
but on the 15th of August, 1769 ; and Josephine not, as 
the document represents, on the 23d of July, 1767, but 
on the 23d of June, 1763.* 

Josephine acknowledged this gallant act of her young 
spouse in queenly fashion, for she brought him, as her 
wedding-gift, his appointment to the command of the 
Italian army, which Barras and Tallien had granted to 
her, at her own request. 

But, before the young bridegroom repaired to his 
new scene of activity, there to win fresh laurels and re- 
nown, he passed a few happy weeks with his lovely wife 
and his new family, in the small residence in the Bue 
Chautereine, which he had purchased a short time before 
his marriage, and which Josephine had fitted up with 
that elevated and refined good taste that had always 
distinguished her. 

One-half of Bonaparte’s darling wish was at length 
fulfilled. He had his house, which was large enough to 
receive his friends. There was now only a carriage to 
be procured in order to make the general the “ happiest 
of men.” 

But, as the wishes of men always aspire still farther 
the farther they advance, Bonaparte was no longer con- 
* Bourrienne, vol. i, p. 350. 


THE MARRIAGE. 


45 


tent with the possession of a small house in Paris. He 
now wanted an establishment in the country also. 

“ Look me up a little place in your beautiful valley 
of the Yonne,” he wrote about this time to Bourrienne, 
who was then living on his property near Sens ; “ and as 
soon as I get the money, I will buy it. Then I will re- 
tire to it. How, don’t forget that I do not want any of 
the national domains.” * 

As for the carriage, the peace of Campo Formio 
brought the victorious General Bonaparte a magnificent 
team of six gray horses, which was a present to the gen- 
eral of the French Republic from the Emperor of Aus- 
tria, who did not dream that, scarcely ten years later, he 
would have him for a son-in-law. 

These superb grays, however, were — excepting the 
laurels of Areola, Marengo, and Mantua, the only spoils 
of war that Bonaparte brought back with him from his 
famous Italian campaign— the only gift which the gen- 
eral had not refused to accept. 

It is true that the six grays could not be very conven- 
iently hitched to a simple private carriage, but they had 
an imposing look attached to the gilded coach of state in 
which, a year later, the first consul made his solemn entry 
into the Tuileries. 


* Bourrienne, vol. i, p. 103. 


46 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER VI. 

BONAPARTE IN ITALY. 

Josephine, now the wife of General Bonaparte, had 
but a few weeks in which to enjoy her new happiness, 
and then remained alone in Paris, doubly desolate, be- 
cause she had to be separated, not only from her hus- 
band, but from her children. Eugene accompanied his 
young step-father to Italy, and Hortense went as a pupil 
to Madame Campan’s boarding-school. The former, lady- 
in-waiting to Queen Marie Antoinette, had, at that time, 
opened an establishment for the education of young 
ladies, at St. Germain, and the greatest and most emi- 
nent families of newly - re publicanized France liked to 
send their daughters to it, so that they might learn from 
the former court-lady the refined style and manners of 
old royalist times. 

Hortense was, therefore, sent to that boarding-school, 
and there, in the society of her new Aunt Caroline — the 
sister of Bonaparte, and afterward Queen of Naples — and 
the young Countess Stephanie Beauharnais, her cousin, 
passed a few happy years of work, of varied study, and 
of youthful maiden-dreams. 

Hortense devoted herself with iron diligence, and un- 
tiring enthusiasm, to her studies, which consisted, not 
only in the acquisition of languages, in music, and draw- 
ing, history and geography, but still more in the master- 
ing the so-called Ion ton and that aristocratic savoir vivre 


BONAPARTE IN ITALY. 


47 


of which Madame Campan was a very model. While 
Hortense w T as thus receiving instruction on the harp from 
the celebrated Alvimara, in painting from Isabey, dancing 
from Coulon, and singing from Lambert, and was playing 
on the stage of the amateur theatre at the boarding-school 
the parts of heroines and lady-loves ; while she was par- 
ticipating in the balls and concerts that Madame Campan 
gave, in order to show off the talent of her pupils to the 
friends she invited ; while, in a word, Hortense was thus 
being trained up to the accomplishments of a distin- 
guished woman of the world, she did not dream how 
useful all these little details, so trivial, apparently, at the 
time, would one day be to her, and how good a thing it 
was that she had learned to play parts at Madame Cam- 
pan’s, and to appear in society as a great lady. 

Meanwhile, Josephine was passing days of gratified 
pride and exulting triumph at Paris, for the star of her 
hero was ascending, brighter and brighter in its efful- 
gence, above the horizon ; the name of Bonaparte was 
echoing in louder and louder volume through the world, 
and filling all Europe with a sort of awe-inspired fear 
and trembling, as the sea becomes agitated when the sun 
begins to rise. Victory after victory came joyfully her- 
alded from Italy, as ancient states fell beneath the iron 
tread of the victor, and new ones sprang into being. The 
splendid old Republic of Venice, once the terror of the 
whole world, the victorious Queen of the Adriatic, had to 
bow her haughty head, and her diadem fell in fragments 
at the feet of her triumphant conqueror. The lion of 


48 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


St. Mark’s no longer made mankind tremble at bis angry 
roar, and the slender monumental pillars on the Piazzetta 
were all that remained to the shattered and fallen Vene- 
tian Republic of her conquests in Candia, Cyprus, and 
the Morea. But, from the dust and ashes of the old com- 
monwealth, there arose, at Bonaparte’s command, a new 
state, the Cisalpine Republic, as a new and youthful 
daughter of the French Republic ; and, when the last 
Doge of Venice, Luigi Manin, laid his peaked crown at 
the feet of Bonaparte, and then fainted away, another 
Venetian, Dandolo, the son of a family that had given 
Venice the greatest and most celebrated of her doges, 
stepped to the front at the head of the new republic — 
that Dandolo of whom Bonaparte had said that he was 
“ a man.” 

“ Good God ! ” exclaimed Bonaparte one day to Bour- 
rienne, “ how seldom one meets men in the world ! In 
Italy there are eighteen millions of inhabitants, but I 
have found only two men among them all — Dandolo and 
Melzi.” * 

But, while Bonaparte was despairing of men , in the 
very midst of his victories, he cherished the warmest, 
most impassioned love for his wife, to whom he almost 
daily wrote the tenderest and most ardent letters, the 
answers to which he awaited with the most impatient 
longing. 

Josephine’s letters formed the sole exception to a very 
unusual and singular system that Bonaparte had adopted 
* Bourrierme, vol. i, p. 139. 


BONAPARTE IN ITALY. 


49 


during a part of liis campaign in Italy. This was to leave 
all written communications, excepting such as came to 
him by special couriers, unread for three weeks. He 
threw them all into a large basket, and opened them only 
on the twenty-first day thereafter. Still, General Bona- 
parte was more considerate than Cardinal Dubois, who 
immediately consigned all the communications he re- 
ceived to the flames, unread , and — while the fire on his 
hearth was consuming the paper on which, perchance, 
was written the despairing appeal of a mother, imploring 
pardon for her son ; of a disconsolate wife, beseeching 
pity for her husband ; or tie application of an ambitious 
statesman, desiring promotion — would point to them with 
a sardonic smile, and say, “ There’s my correspondence ! ” 
Bonaparte, at least, gave the letters a perusal, three weeks 
after they reached him, indeed ; but those three weeks 
saved him and his secretary, Bourrienne, much time and 
labor, for, when they finally went to work on them, time 
and circumstances had already disposed of four fifths of 
them, and thus only one fifth required answers — a result 
that made Bonaparte laugh heartily, and filled him with 
justifiable pride in what he termed his “ happy idea.” 

Josephine’s letters, however, had not an hour or a 
minute to wait ere they were read. Bonaparte always 
received them with his heart bounding with delight, and 
invariably answered them, in such impassioned, glowing 
language as only his warm southern temperament could 
suggest, and contrasted with which even Josephine’s mis- 
sives seemed a little cool and passionless. 


50 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Ere long Bonaparte ceased to be satisfied with merely 
getting letters from his Josephine. He desired to have 
her, in person, with him ; and hardly had the tempest of 
war begun to lull, ere the general summoned his beloved 
to his side at Milan. She obeyed his call with rapture, 
and hastened to Italy to join him. How came proud 
days of triumph and gratified affection. All Italy hailed 
Bonaparte as the conquering hero ; all Italy did homage 
to the woman who bore his name, and whose incompara- 
ble fascination and amiability, gracefulness and beauty, 
won all hearts. Her life now resembled a magnificent, 
glorified, triumphal pageant ; a dazzling fairy festival ; a 
tale from the “ Arabian Hights ” that had become reality, 
with Josephine for its enchanted heroine, sparkling with 
stars, and gleaming with golden sunshine. 


CHAPTER VII. 

VICISSITUDES OF DESTINY. 

Resplendent was the triumphal procession with 
which Bonaparte made his proud entry into Paris, on 
his return from Italy. In the front court-yard of the 
Luxembourg, the palace occupied by the Corps Legislatif \ 
was erected a vast amphitheatre, in which sat all the high 
authorities of France ; in the centre of the amphitheatre 
stood the altar of the country, surmounted by three gigan- 
tic statues, representing Freedom, Equality, and Peace. 


VICISSITUDES OF DESTINY. 


51 


As Bonaparte stepped into this space, all the dense crowd 
that occupied the seats of the amphitheatre rose to their 
feet, with uncovered heads, to hail the conqueror of Italy, 
and the windows of the palace were thronged with hand- 
somely dressed ladies, who waved welcome to the young 
hero with their handkerchiefs. But suddenly this splen- 
did festival was marred by a serious mischance. An 
officer of the Directory, who, the better to satisfy his 
curiosity, had clambered up on the scaffolding of the 
right-side wing of the palace, then undergoing extension, 
fell from it, and struck the ground almost at Napoleon’s 
feet. A shout of terror burst almost simultaneously from 
a thousand throats, and the ladies turned pale and shrank 
back, shuddering, from the windows. The palace, which 
a moment before had exhibited such a wealth of adorn- 
ment in these living flowers, now stood there bare, with 
empty, gaping casements. A perceptible thrill ran 
through the ranks of the Corps legisiatif and here 
and there the whisper passed that this fall of an officer 
portended the early overthrow of the Directory itself, 
and that it, too, would soon, like the unfortunate victim 
of the accident, be lying in its death agonies at the feet 
of General Bonaparte. 

But the Directory, nevertheless, hastened to give the 
victor of Areola new fetes every day ; and when these 
fetes were over, and Bonaparte, fatigued with the speech- 
es, the festivities, the toasts, etc., would be on his way re- 
turning homeward, there was the populace of Paris, who 
beset his path in crowds, to greet him with hearty cheers ; 


52 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and these persistent friends he had to recognize, with 
smiles and shakings of the hand, or with a nod and a 
pleasant glance. 

A universal jubilee of delight had seized upon the 
French. Each individual saw in Bonaparte renown and 
greatness reflected on himself. Every one regarded him 
as the most brilliant impersonation of his own inner per- 
sonality, and, therefore, felt drawn toward him with a 
sort of reverential exultation. 

Josephine gave herself up with her whole soul to the 
enjoyment of these glorious occasions. While Bonaparte, 
almost completely overwhelmed and disturbed, could have 
held aloof from these ovations of the people of Paris, 
they, on the contrary, filled the heart of his wife with 
pride and joy. While in the theatre, he shrank back, 
abashed, behind his wife’s chair when the audience, learn- 
ing his presence, filled their noisy plaudits and clamored 
to have a glimpse at him, Josephine would thank the 
crowd on his behalf with a bewitching smile, and eyes 
swelling with tears for this proof of their regard, which 
to her seemed but a natural and appropriate tribute to 
her Achilles, her lion-hearted hero. But Bonaparte did 
not allow himself to be blinded by these demonstrations ; 
and one day, when popular enthusiasm seemed as though 
it would never end, and the crowd were untiring in their 
cries of “ Vive Bonaparte ! ” while Josephine turned her 
face toward him, glowing with delight, and called out, 
exultingly — “ See, how they love you, these good people 
of Paris ! ” he replied, with an almost melancholy expres- 


VICISSITUDES OF DESTINY. 


53 


sion, “ Bah ! the crowd would be just as numerous and 
noisy if they were conducting me to the scaffold ! ” 

However, these festivals and demonstrations at length 
subsided, and his life resumed its more tranquil course. 

Bonaparte could now once more spend a few secluded 
days of rest and calm enjoyment in his (by this time more 
richly-decorated) dwelling in the Hue Chautereine, the 
name of which the city authorities had changed to Rue 
de la Victoire , in honor of the conqueror at Areola and 
Marengo. He could, after so many battles and triumphs, 
afford to repose a while in the arms of love and hap- 
piness. 

Nevertheless, this inactivity soon began to press heavi- 
ly on his restless spirit. He longed for new exploits, for 
fresh victories. He felt that he was only at the com- 
mencement, and not at the end of his conquering career ; 
he constantly heard ringing in his ears the notes of the 
battle-clarion, summoning him to renewed triumphs and 
to other paths of glory. Love could only delight his 
heart, but could not completely satisfy it. Bepose he 
deemed but the beginning of death. 

“ If I remain here inactive any longer, I am lost,” 
said he. “ They retain the resemblance of nothing what- 
ever in Paris ; one celebrity blots out another in this great 
Babylon ; if I show myself much oftener to the public, 
they will cease to look at me, and if I do not soon under- 
take something new, they will forget me.” 

And he did undertake something new, something 
unprecedented, that filled all Europe with astonishment. 


54 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


He left the shores of France with an army to conquer, 
for the French Republic, that ancient land of Egypt, on 
whose pyramids the green moss of long-forgotten ages 
was flourishing. 

Josephine did not accompany him. She remained 
behind in Paris ; but she needed consolation and encour- 
agement to enable her to sustain this separation, which 
Bonaparte himself had confessed to her might be just as 
likely to last six years as six months. And what could 
afford better consolation to a heart so tender as Jose- 
phine’s than the presence of her beloved daughter ? She 
had willingly given up her son to her husband, and he 
had accompanied the latter to Egypt, but her daughter 
remained, and her she would not give up to any one, not 
even to Madame Campan’s boarding-school. 

Besides, the education of Hortense was now com- 
pleted. She who had come to St. Germain as a child, 
left the boarding-school, after two years’ stay, a hand- 
some, blooming young lady, adorned with all the charms 
of innocence, youth, grace, and refinement. 

Although she was now a young lady of nearly sixteen, 
she had retained the thoughts and ways of her childhood. 
Her heart was as a white sheet of paper, on which no 
profane hand had ventured to write a mortal name. She 
loved nothing beyond her mother, her brother, the fine 
arts, and flowers. She entertained a profound but speech- 
less veneration for her young step-father. His burning 
gaze made her uneasy and timorous ; his commanding 
voice made her heart throb anxiously ; in fine, she rever- 


VICISSITUDES OP DESTINY. 


55 


enced him with adoring but too agitated an impression of 
awe to find it possible to love him. He was for her at all 
times the hero, the lord and master, the father to whom 
she owed implicit obedience, but she dared not love 
him ; she could only look up to and honor him from a 
distance. 

Hortense loved nothing but her mother, her brother, 
the fine arts, and flowers. She still looked out, with the 
expectant eyes of a child, upon the world which seemed 
so beautiful and inviting to her, and from which she 
hoped yet to obtain some grand dazzling piece of good 
fortune without having any accurate idea in what it was 
to consist. She still loved all mankind, and believed in 
their truth and rectitude. Ho* thorn had yet wounded 
her heart ; no disenchantment, no bright illusion dashed 
to pieces, had yet left its shadow on that clear, lofty brow 
of transparent whiteness. The expression of her large 
blue eyes was still radiant and undimmed, and her laugh 
w r as so clear and ringing, that it almost made her mother 
sad to hear it, for it sounded to her like the last echo of 
some sweet, enchanting song of childhood, and she but 
too well knew that it would soon be hushed. 

But Hortense still laughed, still sang with the birds, 
rivalling their melodies ; the world still lay before her 
like an early morning dream, and she still hoped for the 
rising of the sun. 

Such w r as Hortense when her mother took her from 
Madame Campan’s boarding-school, to accompany her to 
the baths of Plombieres. But there it was that Hortense 


56 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


came near experiencing the greatest sorrow of her life, in 
nearly losing her mother. 

She was with Josephine and some other ladies in the 
drawing-room of the house they occupied at Plombieres. 
The doors facing the balcony were open, to let in the 
warm summer air. Hortense was sitting by the window, 
painting a nosegay of wild flowers, that she had gathered 
with her own hands on the hills of Plombieres. Jose- 
phine found the atmosphere of the room too close, and 
invited some ladies to step out with her upon the bal- 
cony. A moment afterward there was heard a deafening 
crash, followed by piercing shrieks of terror ; and when 
Hortense sprang in desperate fright to the front en- 
trance, she found that the balcony on which her mother 
and the other ladies had stood had disappeared. Its 
fastenings had given way, and they had been precipitated 
with it into the street. Hortense, in the first impulse of 
her distress and horror, would have sprung down after 
her beloved mother, and could only be held back with 
the greatest difficulty. But this time fate had spared 
the young girl, and refrained from darkening the pure, 
unclouded heaven of her youth. Her mother escaped 
with no other injury than the fright, and a slight wound 
on her arm, while one of the ladies had both legs broken. 

Josephine’s time to die had not yet come, for the 
prophecy of the fortune-teller had not yet been fulfilled. 
Josephine was, indeed, the wife of a renowned general, 
but she was not yet u something more than a queen.” 


BONAPARTE’S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 


57 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Bonaparte’s return from egypt. 

Bonaparte had got back from Egypt. His victory 
at Aboukir had adorned his brows with fresh laurels, and 
all France hailed the returning conqueror with plaudits 
of exulting pride. For the first time, Hortense was pres- 
ent at the festivities which the city of Paris dedicated 
to her step-father ; for the first time she saw the homage 
that men and women, graybeards and children alike, paid 
to the hero of Italy and Egypt. These festivities and 
this homage filled her heart with a tremor of alarm, and 
yet, at the same time, with joyous exultation. In the 
midst of these triumphs and these ovations which were 
thus offered to her second father, the young girl recalled 
the prison in which her mother had once languished, the 
scaffold upon which the head of her own father had 
fallen ; and frequently when she glanced at the rich gold- 
embroidered uniform of her brother, she reminded him 
with a roguish smile of the time when Eugene went in 
a blue blouse, as a carpenter’s apprentice, through the 
streets of Paris with a long plank on his shoulder. 

These recollections of the first terrible days of her 
youth kept Hortense from feeling the pride and arro- 
gance of good fortune, preserved to her her modest, un- 
assuming tone of mind, prevented her from entertaining 
any overweening or domineering propensity in her day 
of prosperity, or from seeming cast down and hopeless 


58 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


when adversity came. She never lulled herself with the 
idea of good fortune that could not pass away, but her 
remembrances kept her eyes wide open, and hence, when 
misfortune came, it did not take her by surprise, but 
found her armed and ready to confront it. 

Nevertheless, she drank in the pleasure of these 
prosperous days in full draughts, delighted as she was to 
see the mother, of whom she was so fond, surrounded by 
such a halo of glory and gratified love ; and in the name 
of her murdered father she thanked General Bonaparte 
with double fervor, from the bottom of her heart, for 
having been the means of procuring for her mother, 
who had suffered so deeply in her first wedded life, so 
magnificent a glow of splendor and happiness in her sec- 
ond marriage. 

In the mean while, new days of storm and tumult 
were at hand to dispel this brief period of tranquil en- 
joyment. A fresh revolution convulsed all France, and, 
ere long, Paris was divided into two hostile camps, burn- 
ing to begin the work of mutual annihilation. On one 
side stood the democratic republicans, who looked back 
with longing regret to the days of terrorism and blood- 
shed, perceiving, as they did, that tranquillity and pro- 
tracted peace must soon wrest the reins of power from 
their grasp, and therefore anxiously desiring to secure 
control through the element of intimidation. This party 
declared that liberty was in danger, and the Constitution 
threatened; they summoned the sans-culottes and the 
loud-mouthed republicans of the clubs to the armed de- 


BONAPARTE’S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 


59 


fence of the imperilled country, and pointed with men- 
acing hands at Bonaparte as the man wdio wished to 
overthrow the republic, and put France once more in the 
bonds of servitude. 

On the other side stood the discreet friends of the 
country, the republicans by compulsion, who denounced 
terrorism, and had sworn fidelity to the republic, only 
because it was under this reptile disguise alone that they 
could escape the threatening knife of the guillotine. On 
this side were arrayed the men of mind, the artists and 
poets who hopefully longed for a new era, because they 
knew that the days of terror and of the tyrannical demo- 
cratic republic had brought not merely human beings, 
but also the arts and sciences, to the scaffold. With 
them, too, were arrayed the merchants and artisans, the 
bankers, the business-men, the property-owners, all of 
whom wanted to see the republic at least established 
upon a more moderate and quiet foundation, in order to 
have confidence in its durability and substantial charac- 
ter, and to commence the works of peace with a better 
assurance of success. And at the head of these moderate 
republicans stood Bonaparte. 

The 18th Brumaire of the year 1798 was the decisive 
day. It was a fearful struggle that then began afresh — a 
struggle, however, in which little blood was spilt, and 
not men but principles were slaughtered. 

The Council of Elders, the Council of the Five 
Hundred, the Directory, and the Constitution of the year 

III., fell together, and from the ruins of the bloody and 
5 


60 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ferocious democratic republic arose the moderate, ra- 
tional republic of the year 1798. At its head were the 
three consuls, Bonaparte, Cambaceres, and Lebrun. 

On the day following, the 18th Brumaire, these three 
consuls entered the Luxembourg, amid the plaudits of 
the people, and slept, as conquerors, in the beds of the 
Directory of yesterday. 

From that day forward a new world began to take 
shape* and the forms of etiquette which, during the as- 
cendency of the democratic republic, had slunk away out 
of sight into the darkest recesses of the Luxembourg and 
the Tuileries, began to reappear,, slowly and circum- 
spectly, ’tis true, in broad daylight. People were no 
longer required, in accordance with the spirit of equality, 
to ignore all distinctions of condition and culture,, by the 
use of the words “ citizen ” and “ citizeness ; ” or, in the 
name of brotherhood, to endure the close familiarities of 
every brawling street ruffian ; or, in the name of liberty, 
to let all his own personal liberty and inclination be 
trampled under foot. 

Etiquette, as I have said, crept forth from the dark 
corners again ; and the three consuls, who had taken pos- 
session of the Luxembourg, wdiispered the word “mon- 
sieur” in each other’s ears, and greeted Josephine and 
her daughter, who were installed in the apartments pre- 
pared for them in the palace on the next day, with the 
title of “madame.” Yet, only a year earlier, the two 
words “ monsieur ” and “ madame ” had occasioned re- 
volt in Paris, and brought about bloodshed. A year 


BONAPARTE'S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 


61 


earlier, General Augereau had promulged the stern order 
of the day in his division, that, “ whoever should use the 
word 4 monsieur 5 or 4 madame,’ orally or in writing, on 
any pretext whatever, should be deprived of his rank, 
and declared incapable of ever again serving in the army 
of the republic.” * 

Now, these two proscribed words made their tri- 
umphant entry, along with the three consuls, into the 
palace of the Luxembourg, which had been delivered 
from its democratic tyrants. 

Josephine was now, at least, “Madame” Bonaparte, 
and Hortense was “Mademoiselle” Beauharnais. The 
wife of Consul Bonaparte now required a larger retinue 
of servants, and a more showy establishment. Indeed, 
temerity could not yet go so far as to speak of the court 
of Madame Bonaparte and the court ladies of Made- 
moiselle Hortense ; they had still to be content with the 
limited space of the diminutive Luxembourg, but they 
were soon to be compensated for all this, and, if they 
still had to call each other monsieur and madame , they 
could, a few years later, say “your highness,” “your 
majesty,” and “ monseigneur,” in the Tuileries. 

The Luxembourg Palace was soon found to be too 
small for the joint residence of the three consuls, and 
too confined for the ambition of Bonaparte, who could 
not brook the near approach of the other two men who 
shared the supreme control of France wdth him. Too 
small it was also for the longings that now spoke with 
* Bourrienne, vol. i., p. 229. 


62 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ever londer and stronger accents in liis breast, and 
pushed him farther and farther onward in this path of 
splendor and renown which, at first, had seemed to him 
but as the magic mirage of his dreams, but which now 
appeared as the glittering truth and reality of his waking 
hours. The Luxembourg was then too small for the 
three consuls, but they had to go very circumspectly and 
carefully to work to prepare the way to the old royal 
palace of the Bourbons. It would not do to oust the 
representatives of the people, who held their sessions 
there, too suddenly ; the distrustful republicans must not 
be made to apprehend that there was any scheme on foot 
to revolutionize France back into monarchy, and to again 
stifle the many-headed monster of the republic under a 
crown and a sceptre. It was necessary, before entering 
the Tuileries, to give the French people proof that men 
might still be very good republicans, even although they 
might wish to be housed in the bedchamber of a king. 

Hence, before the three consuls transferred their 
quarters to the Tuileries, the royal palace had to be trans- 
formed to a residence worthy of the representatives of 
the republic. So, the first move made was to set up a 
handsome bust of the elder Brutus — a war-trophy of Bo- 
naparte’s, which he had brought with him from Italy — 
in one of the galleries of the Tuileries ; and then David 
had to carve out some other statues of the republican 
heroes of Greece and Home and place them in the sa- 
loons. A number of democratic republicans, who were 
defeated and exiled on the 13th Vendemiaire, were per- 


BONAPARTE’S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 


63 


mitted to return to France, and news of tlie death of 
Washington, the noblest and wisest of all republicans, 
arriving just at that time, Bonaparte ordered that the 
whole army should wear the badge of mourning for ten 
days. Black bands were worn on the arm, and sable 
streamers waved from the standards, in honor of the 
deceased republican hero. 

However, when these ten days were past, and France 
and her army had sufficiently expressed their regret, the 
three consuls entered the Tuileries through the grand 
portal, on the two sides of which towered aloft two lib- 
erty-poles that still bore the old inscription of the repub- 
lic of 1792. On the tree to the right was the legend 
a August 10, 1792,” and on the one to the left, “ Koyalty 
in France is overthrown and will never rise again.” It 
was between these two significant symbols that Bona- 
parte first strode into the Tuileries. It was a very long 
and imposing procession of carriages which moved that 
day toward the palace, through the streets of the capital. 
They only lacked the outward pomp and magnificence 
which rendered tie latter fetes of the empire so remark- 
able. With the exception of the splendid vehicle in 
which the three consuls rode, and which was drawn by 
the six grays presented by the Emperor of Austria, there 
were but few good equipages to be seen. France of the 
new day had not had the opportunity to build any state- 
coaches, and those of old France had been too shamefully 
misused to admit of their ever serving again ; for it 
would be out of the question to employ, in this solemn 


64 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


procession of the three consuls, the state-carriages of the 
old aristocracy, that had served as the vehicles in which 
the democratic republic had transported dead dogs to 
their place of deposit. Such had been the fact in the 
September days of the year 1793. 

The unclaimed dogs of the fugitive or slaughtered 
aristocracy at that time wandered without masters, by 
thousands, through the streets and slaked their thirst 
with the blood which flowed down from the guillotine 
and dyed the ground with the purple of the new system 
of popular liberty. 

The smell of the fresh blood and the ghastly suste- 
nance which the guillotine yielded them had restored the 
animals to their original savage propensities, and hence 
those who had been so fortunate as to escape the mur- 
derous axe of the sans-culottes had now to apprehend the 
danger of falling a victim to the sharp teeth of these 
wild blood-hounds ; and as the ferocious brutes knew no 
difference between aristocrats and republicans, but fell 
upon both with equal fury, it became necessary, at last, 
to annihilate these new foes of the republic. So, the 
Champs Elysees were surrounded with troops, and the 
dogs were driven into the Rue Royale and the Place 
Royale, where they were mowed down by musketry. 
On that one day the dead carcasses of more than three 
thousand dogs lay about in the streets of Paris, and there 
they continued to fester for three days longer, because a 
dispute had arisen among the city officials as to whose 
duty it was to remove them. At length the Convention 


BONAPARTE’S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 


65 


undertook that task, and intrusted the work to repre- 
sentative Gasparin, who was shrewd enough to convert 
the removal of the dead animals into a republican cere- 
mony. These were the dogs of the ci-devants and 
aristocrats that were to be buried, and it was quite 
proper, therefore, that they should receive aristocratic 
honors. 

Gasparin, acting upon this idea, caused all the coaches 
of the fugitive and massacred aristocracy to be brought 
from their stables, and the carcasses of the dogs were 
flung into these emblazoned and escutcheoned vehicles 
of old France. Six grand coaches that had belonged to 
the king opened the procession, and the tails, heads, bod- 
ies and legs of the luckless quadrupeds could be seen 
behind the glittering glass panels heaped together in wild 
disorder.* 

After this public canine funeral celebration of the 
one and indivisible republic, the gilded state-coaches 
could not be consistently used for any human and less 
mournful occasion, and hence it was that the consular 
procession to the Tuileries was so deficient in carriages, 
and that public hacks on which the numbers were de- 
faced had to be employed. 

With the entry of Bonaparte into the Tuileries the 
revolution was at an end. He laid his victorious sword 
across the gory, yawning chasm which had drunk the 
blood of both aristocrats and democrats; and of that 
sword he made a bridge over which society might pass 
* Memoires of the Marchioness de Crequi, vol. viii., p. 10. 


66 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

from one century to tlie other, and from the republic to 
the empire. 

As Bonaparte was walking with Josephine and Hor- 
tense through the Diana Gallery on the morning after 
their entry into the Tuileries, and was with them admir- 
ing the statuary he had caused to be placed there, both 
of the ladies possessing much artistic taste, he paused in 
front of the statue of the younger Brutus, which stood 
close to the statue of Julius Caesar. He gazed long and 
earnestly at both of the grave, solemn faces; but, sud- 
denly, as though just awaking from a deep dream, he 
sharply raised his head, and, laying his hand with an 
abrupt movement upon Josephine’s shoulder, as he 
looked up at the statue of Brutus with blazing, almost 
menacing glances, said in a voice that made the hearts 
of both the ladies bound within their bosoms : 

“ It is not enough to be in the Tuileries : one must 
remain there. And whom has not this palace held ? 
Even street thieves and conventionists have occupied it ! 
Did not I see with my own eyes how the savage Jaco- 
bins and cohorts of sans-culottes surrounded the palace 
and led away the good King Louis XYI. as a prisoner ! 
Ah! never mind, Josephine; have no fear for the 
future ! Let them but dare to come hither once 
more ! ” * 

And, as Bonaparte stood there and thus spoke in 
front of the statues of Brutus and Julius Csesar, his voice 
re-echoed like angry thunder through the long gallery, 

* Bourrienne, vol. vi., p. 3. 


•BONAPARTE’S RETURN FROM EGYPT. 67 

and made tlie figures of the heroes of the dead republic 
tremble on their pedestals. 

Bonaparte lifted his arm menacingly toward the 
statue of Brutus, as though he -would, in that fierce 
republican who slew Caesar, challenge all republican 
France, whose Caesar and Augustus in one he aspired to 
be, to mortal combat. 

The revolution was closed. Bonaparte had installed 
himself in the Tuileries with Josephine and her two chil- 
dren. The son and daughter of General Beauharnais, 
whom the republic had murdered, had now found 
another father, who was destined to avenge that murder 
on the republic itself. 

The revolution was over ! 


BOOK II. 


THE QUEEN OF HOLLAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

A FIRST LOVE. 

With the entry of Bonaparte into the Tuileries, the 
revolution closed, and blissful days of tranquillity and 
gay festivity followed. Josephine and Ilortense were 
the cynosure of all these festivals, for they were, like- 
wise, the animating centre whence the grace and beauty, 
the attractive charm, and the intellectual significance of 
them all, proceeded. 

Hortense was passionately fond of dancing, and no 
one at u tlie court of Josephine” tripped it with such 
gracefulness and such enchanting delicacy as she. Now, 
as the reader will observe, people already began to speak 
of the u court ” of Madame Bonaparte, the powerful wife 
of the First Consul of France. Now, also, audiences 
were held, and Josephine and Hortense already had a 
court retinue who approached them with the same sub- 
serviency and humility as though they had been prin- 
cesses of the blood. 


A FIRST LOVE. 


69 


Madame Bonaparte now rode with her daughter 
through the streets of Paris in a richly-gilded coach, 
under a military escort, and wherever the populace 
caught a glimpse of them they greeted the wife and 
daughter of the first consul with applauding shouts. 

Bonaparte’s coachmen and servants had now a livery, 
and made their appearance in green coats with gold em- 
broidery and galloons. There were chamberlains and 
lackeys, grooms and outriders; splendid dinners and 
evening parties were given, and the ambassadors of for- 
eign powers were received in solemn audience ; for, now, 
all the European states had recognized the French Ke- 
public under the consulate, and, as Bonaparte had con- 
cluded peace with England and Austria, these two great 
powers also sent envoys to the court of the mighty 
consul. 

Instead of warlike struggles, the Tuileries now wit- 
nessed contentions of the toilet, and powder or no pow- 
der was one of the great questions of etiquette in which 
Josephine gave the casting vote when she said that 
“ every one should dress as 6eemed best and most becom- 
ing to each, but yet endeavor to let good taste pervade 
the selection.” 

For some time, meanwhile, Hortense had participated 
with less zest than formerly in the amusements and par- 
ties of the day ; for some time she had seemed to prefer 
being alone more than in previous years, and held her- 
self aloof in the quiet retirement of her own apartments, 
where the melancholy, tender, and touching melodies 


70 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


which she drew from her harp in those lonely hours 
seemed to hold her better converse than all the gay and 
flattering remarks that she was accustomed to hear in 
her mother’s grand saloons. 

Hortense sought solitude, for to solitude alone could 
she confide what was weighing on her heart ; to it alone 
could she venture to confess that she was in love, and 
with all the innocent energy, all the warmth and absolute 
devotion of a first attachment. How blissful were those 
hours of reverie, of expectant peering into the future, 
which seemed to promise the rising of another sun of 
happiness to her beaming gaze ! For this young girl’s 
passion had the secret approbation of her mother and 
her step-father, and both of them smilingly pretended 
not to be, in the least degree, aware of the tender under- 
standing that subsisted between Hortense and General 
Duroc, Bonaparte’s chief adjutant; only that, while Jo- 
seplifeie took it to be the first tender fluttering of a 
young girl’s heart awaking to the world, Bonaparte as- 
cribed a more serious meaning to it, and bestowed ear- 
nest thought upon the idea of a union between Hortense 
and his friend. He was anxious, above all other things, 
to give Duroc a more important and imposing status, and 
therefore sent him as ambassador to St. Petersburg, to 
convey to the Emperor Alexander, who had just as- 
cended his father’s throne, the congratulations and good 
wishes of the First Consul of France. 

The poor young lovers, constantly watched as they 
were, and as constantly restrained by the rules of an eti- 


A FIRST LOVE. 71 

quette which was now becoming more and more rigid, 
had not the consolation accorded to them of exchanging 
even one last unnoticed pressure of the hand, one last 
tender vow of eternal fidelity, when they took leave of 
each other. But they hoped in the future, and looked 
forward to Duroc’s return, and to the precious recom- 
pense that Bonaparte had significantly promised to his 
friend. That recompense was the hand of Hortense. 
Until then, they had to content themselves with that sole 
and sweetest solace of all parted lovers, the letters that 
they interchanged, and which Bourrienne, Bonaparte’s 
secretary, faithfully and discreetly transmitted. 

“ Nearly every evening,” relates Bourrienne, in his 
Memoires, “ I played a game of billiards with Made- 
moiselle Hortense, who was an adept at it. When I said, 
in a low tone to her, ‘ I have a letter,’ the game would 
cease at once, and she would hasten to her room, whither 
I followed her, and took the letter to her. Her eyes 
would instantly fill with tears of emotion and delight, 
and it was only after a long lapse of time that she would 
go down to the saloon whither I had preceded her.” * 

Hortense, thus busied only with her young lover and 
her innocent dreams of the future, troubled herself but 
little concerning what was taking place around her, and 
did not perceive that others were ready to make her 
young heart the plaything of domestic and political in- 
trigue. 

Bonaparte’s brothers, who were jealous of the sway 
* Bourrienne, vol. iv., p. 319. 


72 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


that the beautiful aud fascinating Josephine still exerted 
over the first consul, as in the first days of their wedded 
life, were anxious, by separating Hortense from her 
mother, to deprive Josephine of one of the strongest sup- 
ports of her influence, and thus, by isolating Josephine, 
bring themselves nearer to their brother. They well 
knew the affection which Bonaparte, who was particu- 
larly fond of children, entertained for those of his wife, 
and they also knew that Eugene and Hortense had, one 
day, not by their entreaties or their tears, but by their 
mere presence, prevented Josephine and Bonaparte from 
separating. 

This was at the time when the whisperings of his 
brothers and of Junot had succeeded in making Bona- 
parte jealous on his return from Egypt. 

At that time, Bonaparte had resolved to separate 
from a woman, against whom, however, his anger was 
thus fiercely aroused, simply because he was so strongly 
attached to her ; and when Bourrienne implored him, at 
least, to hear Josephine before condemning her, and to 
see whether she could not clear herself, or he could not 
forgive her, he had replied : 

“ I forgive her? Never ! Were I not sure of myself 
this time, I would tear my heart out and throw it into 
the fire!” And, as Bonaparte spoke, liis voice trem- 
bling the while with rage, he clutched his breast with 
his hand as though he would indeed rend it to pieces. 
This scene occurred in the evening, but, when Bourri- 
enne came into the office next morning, Bonaparte 


A FIRST LOVE. 73 

stepped forward to meet him with a smile on his face, 
and a little confused. 

“Now, Bourrienne,” said he, “you will be content — 
she is here ! Don’t suppose that I have forgiven her — 
no, not at all ! No, I reproached her vehemently, and 
sent her away. But, what would you have ? — when she 
left me, weeping, I went after her, and, as she descended 
the stairs with her head drooping, I saw Eugene and 
Hortense, who went with her, sobbing violently. I have 
not the heart to look unmoved on any one in tears. Eu- 
gene had accompanied me to Egypt, and I have accus- 
tomed myself to regard him as my adopted son ; he is so 
gallant, so excellent a young man. Hortense is just com- 
ing out into the world of society, and every one who 
knows her speaks well of her. I confess, Bourrienne, 
that the sight of her moved me deeply, and the sob- 
bing of those two poor children made me sad as well. 
I said to- myself, ‘ Shall they be the victims of their 
mother’s fault?’ I called Eugene back. Hortense 
turned round and, along with Josephine, followed her 
brother. I saw the movement, and said nothing. What 
could I do ? One cannot be a mortal man without hav- 
ing his hours of weakness ! ” 

“Be assured, general,” exclaimed Bourrienne, “that 
your adopted children will reward you for it ! ” 

“ They must do so, Bourrienne — they must do so ; for 
it is a great sacrifice. that I have made for them ! ” * 

This sacrifice, however, had its recompense imme- 


* Bourrienne, vol. iv., p. 119. 


74 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


diately, for Josephine had been able to set herself right, 
and Bonaparte had joyfully become convinced that the 
accusations of his jealous brothers had been unjust. 

Hence it was that Bonaparte’s brothers wished to re- 
move Hortense, since they knew that she was her moth- 
er’s main stay ; that she, with her gentle, amiable dispo- 
sition, her tact and good sense, her penetrating and 
never-failing sagacity, stood like a wise young Mentor at 
the side of her beautiful, attractive, impulsive, somewhat 
vain, and very extravagant mother. 

It would be easier to set Josephine aside were Hor- 
tense first removed ; and Josephine they wanted to get 
out of the way because she interfered with the ambi- 
tious designs of Bonaparte’s brothers. Since they could 
not become great and celebrated by their own merits, they 
desired to be so through their illustrious brother ; and, in 
order that they might become kings, Bonaparte must, 
above all things, wear a crown. Josephine was opposed 
to this project ; she loved Bonaparte enough to fear the 
dangers that a usurpation of the crown must bring with 
it, and she had so little ambition as to prefer her present 
brilliant and peaceful lot to the proud but perilous ex- 
altation to a throne. 

For this reason, then, Josephine was to be removed, 
and Bonaparte must choose another wife — a wfife in 
whose veins there should course legitimate royal blood, 
and w T ho would, therefore, be content to see a crown 
upon the head of her consort. 


LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 


75 


CHAPTEE II. 

LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 

The brothers of Bonaparte went diligently to work 
then, above all things, to get Hortense out of the way. 
They told Bonaparte of the burning love of the young 
couple, of the letters which they sent to each other, and 
proposed to him that Duroc should be transferred to the 
Italian army with a higher command, and that Hortense 
should then be given to him. They persuaded the un- 
suspecting, magnanimous hero, who was easy to deceive 
in these minor matters and thus easy because he was 
occupied with grand designs and grand things ; they per- 
suaded him to keep the proposed union a secret for the 
present, and then on Duroc’s early return to surprise the 
young couple and Josephine alike. 

But Josephine had, this time, seen through the plans 
of her hostile brothers-in-law\ She felt that her whole 
existence, her entire future, was imperilled, should she 
not succeed in making friends and allies in the family of 
Bonaparte itself. There was only one of Bonaparte’s 
brothers who was not hostile to her, but loved her as 
the wife of his brother, to whom he was, at that time, 
still devoted with the most enthusiastic and submissive 
tenderness. 

This one w r as Bonaparte’s brother Louis, a young man 

of serious and sedate disposition, more of a scholar than 

a warrior, more a man of science than fit for the council- 
6 


76 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


chamber and the drawing-room. His was a reserved, 
quiet, somewhat timid character, which, notwithstanding 
its apparent gentleness, developed an inflexible deter- 
mination and energy at the right, decisive moment, and 
then could not be shaken by either threats or entreaties. 
His external appearance was little calculated to please, 
nay, was even somewhat sinister, and commanded the 
respect of others only in moments of excitement, through 
the fierce blaze of his large blue eyes, that seemed rather 
to look inward than outward. 

Louis Bonaparte w r as one of those deep, self-contained, 
undemonstrative, and by no means showy natures which 
are too rarely understood, because, in the noisy bustle of 
life, we have not the time and do not take the pains to 
analyze them. Only a sister or a mother is in a position 
to comprehend and love men of this stamp, because the 
confidential home relations of long years have revealed to 
them the hidden bloom of these sensitive plants which 
shrink back and close their leaves at every rude contact 
of the world. But rarely, however, do they find a loving 
heart outside, for, since their own hearts are too timid to 
seek for love, no one gives himself the trouble to discover 
them. 

The young brother of her husband, now scarcely 
twenty-four, was the one who seemed destined in Jose- 
phine’s eyes to afford her a point of support in the Bona- 
parte family. 

Madame Letitia loved him more tenderly than she 
did any of them, next to her Napoleon, since he was the 


LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 77 

petted darling of the whole family of brothers, who had 
no fear of him, because he was neither egotistical nor 
ambitious enough to cross their plans, but quietly allowed 
them to have their way, and only asked that they would 
also leave him undisturbed to follow out his own quiet 
and unobtrusive inclinations. He was the confidant of 
his young and beautiful sisters, who were always sure to 
find in him a discreet counsellor, and never a betrayer. 
Finally, he was the one of the whole circle of brothers 
toward whom Napoleon felt the sincerest and warmest 
inclination, because he could not help esteeming him for 
his noble qualities, and because he was never annoyed by 
him as he was by his other brothers ; for the ambition, 
and the avarice of Jerome, Joseph, and Lucien, were even 
then a source of displeasure and chagrin to Bonaparte. 

“ Were any one to hear with what persistency my 
brothers demand fresh sums of money from me, every 
day, he would really think that I had consumed from 
them the inheritance their father left,” said Bonaparte, 
one day, to Bourrienne, after a violent scene between him 
and Jerome, which had ended, as they all did, in Jerome 
getting another draft on the private purse of the first 
consul. 

Louis, however, never asked for money, but always 
appeared thankfully content with whatever Bonaparte 
chose to give him, unsolicited, and there never were any 
wranglings with tradesmen on his account, or any debts 
of his to pay. 

This last circumstance was what filled Josephine with 


78 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


a sort of respectful deference for lier young step-brother. 
He understood how to manage his affairs so well as never 
to run up debts, and this was a quality that was so sorely 
lacking in Josephine, that she could never avoid incurring 
debt. How many bitter annoyances, how much care and 
anxiety had not her debts cost her already ; how often 
Bonaparte had scolded her about them ; how often she 
had promised to do differently, and make no more pur- 
chases until she should be in a condition to pay at once ! 

But this reform was to her thoughtless and magnani- 
mous nature an impossibility ; and however greatly she 
may have feared the flashing eyes and thundering voice 
of her husband when he was angered, she could not es- 
cape his wrath in this one point, for in that point pre- 
cisely was it that the penitent sinner continually fell into 
fresh transgression — and again ran into debt ! 

Louis, however, never had debts. He was as cautious 
and regular as her own Hortense, and therefore, thought 
Josephine, these two young, careful, thoughtful temper- 
aments would be well adapted to each other, and would 
know how to manage their hearts as discreetly as they 
did their purses. 

So she wished to make a step-son of Louis Bonaparte, 
in order to strengthen her own position thereby. Jose- 
phine already had a premonitory distrust of the future, 
and it may sometimes have happened that she took the 
mighty eagle that fluttered above her head for a bird of 
evil omen whose warning cry she frequently fancied that 
she heard in the stillness of the night. 


LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 


79 


The negress at Martinique had said to her, “ You will 
be more than a queen.” But now, Josephine had visited 
the new fortune-teller, Madame Yilleneuve, in Paris, and 
she had said to her, “You will wear a crown, but only 
for a short time.” 

Only for a short time ! Josephine was too young, too 
happy, and too healthful, to think of her own early death. 
It must, then, be something else that threatened her — a 
separation, perhaps. She had no children, yet Bonaparte 
so earnestly desired to have a son, and his brothers re- 
peated to him daily that this was for him a political 
necessity. 

Thus J osephine trembled for her future ; she stretched 
out her hands for help, and in the selfishness of her trou- 
ble asked her daughter to give up her own dreams of 
happiness, in order to secure the real happiness of her 
mother. 

Yet Horten se was in love ; her young heart throbbed 
painfully at the thought of not only relinquishing her 
own love, but of marrying an unloved man, whom she 
had never even thought of, and had scarcely noticed. 
She deemed it impossible that she could be asked to sac- 
rifice her own beautiful and blessed happiness, to a cold- 
blooded calculation, an artificial family intrigue ; and so, 
with all the enthusiasm of a first love, she swore rather 
to perish than to forego her lover. 

“ But Duroc has no fortune and no future to offer 
you,” said Josephine. “ What he is, he is only through 
the friendship of Bonaparte. He has no estate, no im- 


80 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


portance, no celebrity. Were Bonaparte to abandon him, 
he would fall back into nothingness and obscurity again.” 

Hortense replied, smiling through her tears : “ I love 
him, and have no other ambition than to be his wife.” 

“ But he ? Do you think that he too has no other 
ambition than to become your husband ? Do you think 
that he loves you for your own sake alone ? ” 

“ I know it,” said the young girl, with beaming eyes ; 
“ Duroc has told me that he loved me, and me only. He 
has sworn eternal fidelity and love to me. Both of us ask 
for nothing more than to belong to each other.” 

Josephine shrugged her shoulders almost compassion- 
ately. 

“ Suppose,” she rejoined, “ that I were to affirm that 
Duroc is willing to marry you, only because he is am- 
bitious, and thinks that Bonaparte would then advance 
him the more rapidly ? ” 

u It is a slander — it is impossible ! ” exclaimed Hor- 
tense, glowing with honest indignation ; “ Duroc loves 
me, and his noble soul is far from all selfish calculation.” 

“ And if I were to prove the contrary to you ? ” asked 
Josephine, irritated by her daughter’s resistance, and 
made cruel by her alarm for her own fortunes. 

Hortense turned pale, and her face, which had been 
so animated, so beautiful, a moment before, blanched as 
though the icy chill of death had passed over it. 

“ If you can prove to me,” she said, in a hollow tone, 
“ that Duroc loves me only through ambitious motives, I 
am ready to give him up, and marry whom you will.” 


LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 


81 


Josephine triumphed. “ Duroc gets back to-day from 
his journey,” she replied, “and in three days more I will 
give you the proof that he does not love you, hut the 
family alliance which you present.” 

Hortense had heard only the first of her mother’s 
words : “ Duroc returns to-day.” What cared she for all 
the rest ? She should see him again — she should read 
consolation and love’s assurance in his handsome manly 
face ; not that she needed this to confirm her confidence, 
for she believed in him, and not the shadow of a doubt 
obscured her blissful greeting. 

Meanwhile, Josephine’s pretty hands were busy draw- 
ing the meshes of this intrigue tighter every moment. 
She absolutely required a supporting ally in the family, 
against the • family itself ; and for this reason Louis must 
become the husband of Hortense. 

Bonaparte himself was against this union, and was 
quite resolved to marry Duroc to his step-daughter. But 
Josephine managed to shake his resolve, by means of en- 
treaties, representations, caresses, and little endearments, 
and even succeeded in such eloquent argument to show 
that Duroc did not cherish any love whatever for Hor- 
tense, but wanted to make an ambitious speculation out 
of her, that Bonaparte resolved, at least, to put his friend 
to the test, and, if Josephine turned out to be right, to 
marry Hortense to his own brother. 

After this last interview with Josephine, Bonaparte 
went back into his office, where he found Bourrienne, as 
ever, at the writing-desk. 


82 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“ Where is Duroc ? ” he hastily asked. 

“ He has gone out — to the opera, I think.” 

“ So soon as he returns tell him that I have promised 
him Hortense — that he shall marry her. But I want the 
wedding to take place in two days, at the farthest. I give 
Hortense five hundred thousand francs, and I appoint 
Duroc to the command of the eighth military division. 
On the day after his wedding he shall start with his wife 
for Toulon, and we shall live apart. I will not have 
a son-in-law in my house ; and, as I want to see these 
matters brought to an end, at last, let me know to-day 
whether Duroc accepts my propositions.” 

“ I don’t think that he will, general.” 

“ Very good ! Then, in that case, Hortense shall 
marry my brother Louis.” 

“ Will she consent ? ” 

“ She will have to consent, Bourrienne.” 

Duroc came in at a late hour that evening, and Bour- 
rienne told him, word for word, the ultimatum of the 
first consul. 

Duroc listened to him attentively ; but, as Bourrienne 
went on with his communication, his countenance grew 
darker and darker. 

“ If such be the case,” he exclaimed at last, when 
Bourrienne had got through, “ if Bonaparte will do noth- 
ing more than that for his son-in-law, I must forego a 
marriage with Hortense, however painful it may be to 
do so : and then, instead of going to Toulon, I can 
remain in Paris.” And, as he ceased to speak, Duroc 


LOUIS BONAPARTE AND DUROC. 


83 


took up his hat, without a trace of excitement or concern, 
and departed. 

That same evening, Josephine received from her hus- 
band his full consent to the marriage of her daughter to 
Louis Bonaparte. 

On that very evening, too, Josephine informed her 
daughter that Duroc had not withstood the test, and 
that he had now relinquished her, through ambition, as, 
through ambition, he had previously feigned to love her. 

Hortense gazed at her mother with tearless eyes. She 
had not a word of complaint or reproach to utter ; she 
was conscious merely that a thunder-bolt had just fallen, 
and had forever dashed to atoms her love, her hopes, her 
future, and her happiness. 

But she no longer had the strength and the will to es- 
cape the evil that had flung its meshes around her ; she 
submitted meekly to it. She had been betrayed by love 
itself ; and what cared she now for her future, her embit- 
tered, bloomless, scentless life, when he had deceived her 
— he, the only one whom she had loved ? 

The next morning Hortense stepped, self-possessed 
and smiling, into Josephine’s private cabinet, and de- 
clared that she was ready to fulfil her mother’s wishes 
and marry Louis Bonaparte. 

Josephine clasped her in her arms, with exclamations 
of delight. She little knew what a night of anguish, of 
wailing, of tears, and of despair, Hortense had struggled 
through, or that her present smiling unconcern was noth- 
ing more than the dull hopelessness of a worn-out heart. 


84 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


She did not see that Hortense smiled now only in order 
that Duroc should not observe that she suffered. Her 
love for him was dead, but her maidenly pride had sur- 
vived, and it dried her tears, and conjured up a smile to 
her struggling lips ; it, too, enabled her to declare that 
she was ready to accept the husband whom her mother 
might present to her. 

Thus, Josephine had accomplished her purpose ; she 
had made one of Bonaparte’s brothers her son. How 
there remained the question whether she should attain 
her other aim through that son, and whether she should 
find in him a support against the intrigues of the other 
brothers of the first consul. 


CHAPTER III. 

CONSUL AND KING. 

There was only two days’ interval between the be- 
trothal of the young couple and their wedding ; and on 
the 7th of January, 1802, Hortense was married to Louis 
Bonaparte, the youngest brother but one of the first con- 
sul. Bonaparte, who contented himself with the civil 
ceremony, and had never given his own union with Jo- 
sephine the sanction of the Church, was less careless and 
unconcerned with regard to this youthful alliance, which 
had, indeed, great need of the blessing of Heaven, in or- 
der to prove a source of any good fortune to the young 


CONSUL AND KING. 


85 


couple. Perhaps he reasoned that the consciousness of 
the indissoluble character of their union would lead them 
to an honorable and upright effort for a mutual inclina- 
tion ; perhaps it was because he simply wished to render 
their separation impossible. Cardinal Caprara was called 
into the Tuileries, after the civil ceremony concluded, 
and had to bestow the blessing of God and of the Church 
upon the bride and bridegroom. 

Yet, not one word or one glance had thus far been 
interchanged by the young couple. It was in silence 
that they stepped, after the ceremonies were over, into 
the carriage that bore them to their new home, in the 
same small residence in the Rue de la Yictoire which 
her mother had occupied in the first happy weeks of 
her youthful union with Bonaparte. 

How, another young, newly-married pair were mak- 
ing their entry into this dwelling, but love did not enter 
with them ; affection and happiness did not shine in 
their faces, as had been the case with Bonaparte and Jo- 
sephine. The eyes of Hortense were dimmed with tears, 
and the countenance of her young husband was dark and 
gloomy. For, on his side, he, too, felt no love for this 
young woman ; and, as she never forgave him for hav- 
ing accepted her hand, although he knew that she loved 
another, he, in like manner, could never forgive her hav- 
ing consented to be his wife, although he had not been 
the one to solicit it, and although he had never told her 
that he loved her. Both had bowed to the will of him 
who gave the law, not merely to all France, but also to 


86 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


his own family, and who had already become the lord 
and master of the republic. Both had married through 
obedience, not for love ; and the consciousness of this 
compulsion rose like an impassable wall between these 
two otherwise tender and confiding young hearts. In 
the consciousness of this compulsion, too, they would not 
even try to love one another, or find in each other’s so- 
ciety the happiness that they were forbidden to seek else- 
where. 

Pale and mournful, in splendid attire, but with a 
heavy heart, did Hortense make her appearance at the 
fetes which were given in honor of her marriage ; and 
it was with a beclouded brow and averted face that 
Louis Bonaparte received the customary congratulations. 
While every one around them exhibited a cheerful and 
joyous bearing, while parties were given in their honor, 
and people danced and sang, the young couple only, of 
all present, were dull and sad. Louis avoided speaking 
to Hortense, and she turned her gaze away from him, 
possibly so that he might not read in it her deep and 
angry aversion. 

But she had to accept her lot; and, since she was 
thus indissolubly bound up with another, she had to try 
to live with that other. Hortense, externally so gentle 
and yielding, so full of maiden coyness and delicacy, 
nevertheless possessed a strong and resolute soul, and, in 
the noble pride of her wounded heart, was unwilling to 
give any one the right to pity her. Her soul wept, but 
she restrained her tears and still tried to smile, were it 


CONSUL AND KING. 


87 


only that Duroc might not perceive the traces of her 
grief upon her sunken cheeks. She had torn this love 
from her heart, and she rebuked herself that it had left 
a wound. She laid claim to happiness no more ; hut her 
youth, her proud self-respect, revolted at the idea of con- 
tinuing to be the slave of misfortune henceforth, and so 
she formed her firm resolve, saying to herself, with a 
melancholy smile, “ I must manage to be happy, without 
happiness. Let me try ! ” 

And she did try. She once more arrayed herself in 
smiles, and again took part in the festivities which now 
were filling the halls of St. Cloud, Malmaison, and the 
Tuileries, and which, too, were but the dying lay of the 
swan of the republic, or, if you will, the cradle-song of 
reviving monarchy. 

For things were daily sweeping nearer and nearer to 
that great turning-point, at which the French people 
would have to choose between a seeming republic and a 
real monarchy. France was already a republic but in 
name ; the new, approaching monarchy was, indeed, but 
a new-born, naked infant as yet, but only a bold hand 
was wanting, that should possess the determined courage 
to clothe it with ermine and purple, in order to trans- 
form the helpless babe into a proud, triumphant man. 

That courage Bonaparte possessed ; but he had, also, 
the higher courage to advance carefully and slowly. He 
let the infant of monarchy, that lay there naked and 
helpless at his feet, shiver there a little longer; but, lest 
it should freeze altogether, he threw over it, for the time 


88 . 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


being, the mantle of his “ consulship for life.” Beneath 
it, the babe could slumber comfortably a few weeks 
longer, while waiting for its purple robes. 

Bonaparte was now, by the will of the French people, 
consul for life. He stood close to the steps of a throne, 
and it depended only upon himself whether he would 
mount those steps, or whether, like General Monk, he 
would recall the fugitive king, and restore to him the 
sceptre of his forefathers. The brothers of Bonaparte 
desired the first; Josephine implored Heaven for the lat- 
ter alternative. She was too completely a loving woman 
only, to long for the chilly joys of mere ambition ; she 
was too entirely occupied with her personal happiness, 
not to fear every danger that menaced it. Should Bona- 
parte place a crown upon his head, he would also have to 
think of becoming the founder of a dynasty ; and in 
order to strengthen and fortify his position, he would 
have to place a legitimate heir by his side. Josephine 
had borne her husband no children ; and she knew that 
his brothers had, more than once, proposed to him to dis- 
solve his childless union, and replace it with the presence 
of a young wife. Hence, Bonaparte’s assumption of 
royal dignity meant a separation from her; and Jose- 
phine still loved him too well, and too much with a 
young wife’s love, to take so great a sacrifice upon her. 

Moreover, Josephine was at heart a royalist, and con- 
sidered the Count de Lille, who, after so many agitations 
and wanderings, had found an asylum at Hartwell, in 
England, the legitimate King of France. 


CONSUL AND KING. 


89 


The letters which the Count de Lille (afterward King 
Louis XVIII.) had written to Bonaparte, had filled Jose- 
phine’s heart with emotion, and, with a kind of appre- 
hensive foreboding, she had conjured her husband to, at 
least, give the brother of the beheaded king a mild and 
considerate answer. Yes, she had even ventured to be- 
seech Bonaparte to comply with the request that Louis 
had made, and give him back the throne of his ancestors. 
But Bonaparte had laughed at this suggestion, as he 
would at some childish joke ; for it had never entered 
into his head that any one could seriously ask him to lay 
his laurels and his trophies at the foot of a throne, which 
not he, but a member of that Bourbon family whom 
France had banished forever, should ascend. 

Louis had written to Bonaparte : “I cannot believe 
that the victor at Lodi, Castiglione, and Areola — the con- 
queror of Italy and Egypt — would not prefer real glory 
to mere empty celebrity. Meanwhile, you are losing 
precious time. We can secure the glory of France; I 
say we , because I have need of Bonaparte in the work, 
and because he cannot complete it without me.” 

But Bonaparte already felt strong enough to say, not 
“ we ,” but “ I,” and to complete his work alone. There- 
fore, he replied to the Count de Lille : “ You cannot de- 
sire your return to France, for you would have to enter 
it over a hundred thousand corpses ; sacrifice your per- 
sonal interests to the tranquillity and happiness of 
France. History will pay you a grateful acknowledg- 
ment.” i 


90 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Louis had said in his letter to Bonaparte, “ Choose 
your own position, and mark out what you want for your 
friends.’’ And Bonaparte did choose his position ; but, 
unfortunately for the Count de Lille, it was the very one 
which the latter had wished to reserve for himself. 

Josephine would have been glad to vacate the king’s 
place for him, could she but have retained her husband 
by so doing. She had no longings for a diadem which, 
by-the-way, her beautiful head did not require in order 
to command admiration. 



“ You cannot avoid being a queen or an empress, one 
of these days,” said Bourrienne to her, on a certain occa- 
sion. 

Josephine replied, with tears: “ Mon Dieu ! I am 
far from cherishing any such ambition. So long as I 
live, to be the wife of Bonaparte — of the first consul — is 
the sum total of my wishes ! Tell him so ; conjure him 
not to make himself king.” * 

But Josephine did not content herself with request- 
ing Bourrienne to tell her husband this; she had the 
courage to say so to him herself. 

One day she went into Napoleon’s cabinet, and found 
him at breakfast, and unusually cheerful and good-hu- 
mored. She had entered without having been an- 
nounced, and crept up on tiptoe to her husband, who sat 
with his back turned toward her, and had not yet noticed 
her. Lightly throwing her arm around his neck, and 
letting herself sink upon his breast, and then stroking his 


* Bourrienne, vol. v., p. 47. 


CONSUL AND KING. 


91 


pale cheeks and glossy brown hair, with an expression of 
unutterable love and tenderness, she said : 

“ I implore you, Bonaparte, do not mount the throne. 
Your wicked brother Lucien will urge you to it, but do 
not listen to him.” 

Bonaparte laughed. You are a little goose, poor 
Josephine,” he said. “ It’s the old dowagers of the Fau- 
bourg St. Germain, and your La Rochefoucauld, more 
than all the rest, who tell you these wonderful stories ; 
but you worry me to death with them. Come, now, 
don’t bother me about them any more ! ” 

Bonaparte had put off Josephine with a laugh and a 
jesting w T ord, but he nevertheless conversed earnestly 
and seriously with his most intimate personal friends on 
the subject of his assuming the crown. In the course of 
one of these interviews, Bourrienne said to him : 

“ As first consul, you are the leading and most 
famous man in all Europe ; whereas, if you place the 
crown upon your head, you will be only the youngest in 
date of all the kings, and will have to yield precedence to 
them.” 

Bonaparte’s eyes blazed up with fiercer fire, and, with 
that daring and imposing look which was peculiar to him 
in great and decisive moments, he responded : 

“ The youngest of the kings ! Well, then, I will 
drive all the kings from their thrones, and found a new 
dynasty : then, they will have to recognize me as the old- 
est prince of all.” 


7 


92 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE CALUMNY. 

The union of Hortense with Bonaparte’s brother had 
not been followed by such good results for her as J ose- 
phine had anticipated. She had made a most unfortu- 
nate selection, for Louis Bonaparte was, of all the first 
consul’s brothers, the one who concerned himself the 
least about politics, and was the least likely to engage, in 
any intrigue. Besides, this alliance had materially dimin- 
ished the affection which Louis had always previously 
manifested for Josephine. He blamed her, in the depths 
of his noble and upright heart, for having been so ego- 
tistic as to sacrifice the happiness of her daughter to her 
own personal welfare ; he blamed her, too, for having 
forced him into a marriage which love had not con- 
cluded, and, although he never sided with her enemies, 
Josephine had, at least, lost a friend in him. 

The wedded life of this young couple was something 
unusually strange. They had openly confessed the repul- 
sion they felt for each other, and reciprocally made no 
secret of the fact that they had been driven into this 
union against their own wishes. In this singular inter- 
change of confidence, they went so far as to commiserate 
each other, and to condole with one another as friends, 
over the wretchedness they endured in their married 
bondage. 

They said frankly to each other that they could never 


THE CALUMNY. 


93 


love ; that they detested one another : but they so keenly 
felt a mutual compassion, that out of that very compas- 
sion — that very hatred itself — love might possibly spring 
into being. 

Louis could already sit for hours together beside his 
wife, busied with the effort to divert her with amusing 
remarks, and to drive away the clouds that obscured her 
brow ; already, too, Hortense had come to regard it as 
her holiest and sweetest duty to endeavor to compensate 
her husband, by her kindly deportment toward him, and 
the delicate and attentive respect that distinguished her 
bearing, for the unhappiness he felt beside her ; already 
had both, in fine, begun to console each other with the 
reflection that the child which Hortense now bore beneath 
her heart would, one day, be to them a compensation for 
their ill-starred marriage and their lost freedom. 

“ When I present you with a son,” said Hortense, 
smiling, “ and when he calls you by the sweet name of 
‘ father,’ you will forgive me for being his mother,” 

“ And when you press that son to your heart — when 
you feel that you love him with boundless affection,” said 
Louis, “you will pardon me for being your husband, and 
you will cease to hate me, at least, for I will be the father 
of your darling child.” 

Had sufficient time been allotted to these young, pure, 
and innocent hearts, to comprehend one another, they 
would have overcome their unhappiness, and love would 
have sprung up at last from hatred. But the world was 
pitiless to them ; it had no compassion for their youth 


94 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and their sufferings ; with cruel hands it dashed away 
this tender blossoming of nascent affection, which was 
beginning to expand in their hearts. Josephine had 
wedded Hortense to her brother-in-law in order to secure 
in him an ally in the family, and to keep her daughter by 
her side ; and now that daughter was made the target of 
insidious attacks and malicious calumnies — now another 
plan was adopted in order to remove Hortense from the 
scene. The conspirators had not succeeded in their de- 
signs by means of a matrimonial alliance, so they would 
now try the effect of calumny. 

They went about whispering from ear to ear that 
Bonaparte had married his step-daughter to his brother, 
simply because he was attached to her himself, and had 
been jealous of Duroc. 

These slanders w r ere carried so far as to hint that the 
child whose birth Hortense expected was more nearly re- 
lated to Bonaparte than merely through the fact that his 
step-daughter was his brother’s wife. 

This was an infernal but skilfully-planned calumny ; 
for those who devised it well knew how Bonaparte de- 
tested the merest suspicion of such immorality, how strict 
he was in his own principles, and how repulsive it there- 
fore would be to him to find himself made the object of 
such infamous slanders. 

The conspirators calculated that, in order to terminate 
these evil rumors, the first consul would send his brother 
and Hortense away to a distance, and that the fated Jose- 
phine, being thus isolated, could also be the more readily 


THE CALUMNY. 


95 


removed. Tims Bonaparte, being separated from his 
guardian angel, would no longer hear her whispering : 

“ Bonaparte, do not ascend the throne ! Be content 
with the glory of the greatest of mankind ! Place no 
diadem upon thy brows ; do not make thyself a 
king ! ” 

In Paris, as I have said, these shameful calumnies 
were but very lightly whispered, but abroad they were 
only the more loudly heard. Bonaparte’s enemies got 
hold of the scandalous story, and made a weapon of it 
with which to assail him as a hero. 

One morning Bonaparte was reading an English news- 
paper which had always been hostile to him, and which, 
as he well knew, was the organ of Count d’ Artois, then 
residing at Hartwell. As he continued to read, a dark 
shadow stole over his face, and he crumpled the paper in 
his clinched fist with a sudden and vehement motion. 
Then as suddenly again his countenance cleared, and a 
proud smile flitted across it. He had his master of cere- 
monies summoned to his presence, and bade him issue 
the necessary invitations for a court ball to be given, on 
the evening of the next day, at St. Cloud. He then went 
to Josephine to inform her in person of the projected 
fete , and to say that he wished her to tell Hortense, who 
had been ailing for some time, that he particularly desired 
her to be present. 

Hortense had been too long accustomed to obey her 
step-father’s requests, to venture a refusal. She rose, 
therefore, from her couch on which she had been in the 


96 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


habit, for weeks past, of reclining, busied with her own 
dreams and musings, and bade her waiting women pre- 
pare her attire for the ball. Still she felt unwell, and 
seriously burdened by this festive attire, which harmo- 
nized so little with her feelings, and was so far from be- 
coming to her figure, for she was only a few weeks from 
her confinement ; but with her gentle and yielding dis- 
position she did not venture, even in thought, to murmur 
at the compulsion imposed upon her by her step-father’s 
command. She therefore repaired, at the appointed hour, 
to the ball at St. Cloud. Bonaparte stepped forward to 
meet her with a friendly smile, and, instead of thanking 
her for coming at all, earnestly urged her to dance. 

Hortense gazed at him with amazement. She knew 
that hitherto Bonaparte had always sought to avoid the 
sight of a woman in her condition ; he had frequently 
said that he thought there was nothing more indecent 
than for a female to join in the dance under such circum- 
stances, and now it was he who asked her to do that very 
thing. 

For this reason Hortense hesitated at first to comply, 
but Bonaparte grew only the more pressing and vehement 
in his request. 

“ You know how I like to see you dance, Hortense,” 
he said, with his irresistible smile ; “ so do this much for 
me, even if you take the floor only once, and that for but 
a single contredanceP 

And Hortense, although most reluctant, although 
blushing with shame at the idea of exposing herself in 


THE CALUMNY. 97 

such unseemly shape to the gaze of all, obeyed and joined 
the dances. 

This took place in the evening — how greatly surprised, 
then, was Hortense when next morning she found, in the 
paper that she usually read, a poem, extolling her per- 
formance in words of ravishing flattery, and referring to 
the fact that, notwithstanding her advanced state of preg- 
nancy, she had consented to tread a measure in the con- 
tredance , as a peculiar trait of amiability ! 

Hortense, however, far from feeling flattered by this 
very emphatic piece of verse, took it as an affront, and 
hastened at once to the Tuileries, to complain to her 
mother, and to ask her how it was possible that, so early 
as the very next morning, there could be verses published 
in the newspapers concerning what had taken place at 
the ball on the preceding evening. 

Bonaparte, who happened to be with Josephine when 
Hortense came in, and was the first to be questioned by 
her, gave her only an evasive and jocose reply, and with- 
drew. Hortense then turned to her mother, who was 
leaning over on the divan, her eyes reddened with weep- 
ing and her heart oppressed with grief. To her, Bona- 
parte had given no evasive answer, but had told the 
whole truth, and Josephine’s heart was at that moment 
too full of wretchedness, too overladen with this fresh 
and bitter trouble, for her possibly to retain it within her 
own breast. 

Hortense insisted upon an explanation, and her moth- 
er gave it. She told her that Bonaparte had got the poet 


98 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Esmenard to write the verses beforehand, and that it was 
for this reason that he had urged her to dance ; that he 
had ordered the ball for no other purpose than to have 
her dance, and have the poem that complimented her and 
referred to her pregnancy published in the next day’s 
paper. 

Then, when Hortense, in terror, begged to be in- 
formed of the ground for all these proceedings, Jose- 
phine had the cruel courage to tell her of the slanders 
that had been circulated in reference to herself and Bona- 
parte, and to say that he had arranged the poem, the ball, 
and her participation in the dance, because, on the pre- 
ceding day, he had read in an English journal the calum- 
nious statement that Madame Louis Bonaparte had safely 
given birth to a vigorous and healthy child some w^eeks 
previously, and he wished in this manner to refute the 
malicious statement. 

Hortense received this fresh wound with a cold smile 
of scorn. She had not a word of anger or indignation 
for this unheard-of injury, this shameless slander ; she 
neither wept nor complained, but, as she rose to take 
leave of her mother, she swooned away, and it required 
hours of exertion to restore her to consciousness. 

A few weeks later, Hortense was delivered of a dead 
male infant, and so passed away her last dream of happi- 
ness ; for thus was destroyed the hope of a better under- 
standing between her and her husband. 

Hortense rose from her sick-bed with a firm, deter- 
mined heart. In those long, lonely days that she had 


THE CALUMNY. 


99 


passed during lier confinement, she had the time and op- 
portunity to meditate on many things, and keenly to esti- 
mate her whole present position and probable future. 
She had now become a mother, without having a child ; 
yet the resolute energy of a mother remained to her. 
The youthful, gentle, dreamy, enthusiastic girl had now 
become transformed into a determined, active, energetic 
woman, that would no longer bow submissively to the 
blows of fortune, but would meet them with an open and 
defiant brow. Since her fate could not be changed, she 
accepted it, all the while resolved no longer to bend to its 
yoke, but to subdue it, and try to be happy by force of 
resolution ; and, since a charming, peaceful, and harmo- 
nious fireside at home was denied her, to at least make 
her house a pleasant gathering-point for her friends — for 
men of scientific and artistic attainments, for poets and 
singers, for painters and sculptors, and for men of learn- 
ing. Ere long, all Paris was talking about Madame Louis 
Bonaparte’s drawing-rooms, the agreeable and elegant 
entertainments that were given there, and the concerts 
there arranged, in which the first singers of the day exe- 
cuted pieces that Hortense had composed, and Talma re- 
cited, with his wonderful, sonorous voice, the poems that 
she had written. Every one was anxious for admission 
to these entertainments, in which the participants not 
merely performed their parts, but greatly enjoyed them- 
selves as well ; where the guests indulged in no backbit- 
ing or abuse, but found more worthy and elevated sub- 
jects of conversation ; where, in fine, they could admire 


100 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the works of poets and artists, and enjoy the newly- 
awakened intellectual spirit of the age. 

Ilortense had firmly made up her mind that, since she 
had resigned herself to accept the burden of existence, 
she would strive to render it as agreeable as possible, and 
not to see any of its hateful and repulsive features, but to 
turn away from them with a noble and disdainful pride. 
She had never even referred to the frightful calumnies 
which her mother had privately made known to her, nor 
had she deemed any defence or proof of her innocence at 
all necessary. She felt that there were certain accusa- 
tions against which to even undertake defence is to ad- 
mit their possibility, and which, therefore, could only be 
combated by silence. The slanders that had been flung 
at her lay in a plane so far beneath her, that they could 
not rise high enough to reach her, but fell powerless at 
her feet, whence she did not deem it even worth her while 
to thrust them. 

But Bonaparte continued to feel outraged and wound- 
ed by this vile story, and it annoyed him deeply to learn 
that these rumors were still spread abroad, and that, his 
foes still bestirred themselves to keep him ever on the 
alert, and, if possible, to dim the lustre of his gloriously- 
won laurels by the shadow of an infamous crime. 

“ There are still rumors abroad of a liaison between 
me and Ilortense,” said he one day to Bourrienne. “ They 
have even invented the most repulsive stories concerning 
her first infant. At the time, I thought that these calum- 
nies were circulated among the public because the latter 


THE CALUMNY. 101 

so earnestly desired that I might have a child to inherit 
my name. But it is still spoken of, is it not ? ” 

“ Yes, general, it is still spoken of ; and I confess 
that I did not believe this calumny would be so long con- 
tinued.” 

“ This is really abominable ! ” exclaimed Bonaparte, 
his eyes flashing with anger. “ You, Bourrienne, you 
best know what truth there is in it. You have heard 
and seen all ; not the smallest circumstance could escape 
you. You were her confidant in her love-affair with 
Duroc. I expect you to clear me of this infamous re- 
proach if you should some day write my history. Pos- 
terity shall not associate my name with such infamy. I 
shall depend on you, Bourrienne, and you will at least 
admit that you have never believed in this abominable 
calumny ? ” 

“ No, never, general.” 

“ I shall rely on you, Bourrienne, not only on my own 
account, but for the sake of poor Hortense. She is, with- 
out this, unhappy enough, as is my brother also. I am 
concerned about this, because I love them both, and be- 
cause this very circumstance gives color to the reports 
which idle chatterboxes have circulated regarding my re- 
lations to her. Therefore, bear this in mind when you 
write of me hereafter.” 

“ I shall do so, general ; I shall tell the truth, but, un- 
fortunately, I can not compel the world to believe the 
truth.” 

Bourrienne has, at all events, kept his word, and 


102 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


spoken the truth. With deep indignation he spurns the 
calumny with which it has been attempted to sully the 
memory of Bonaparte and Hortense, even down to our 
time ; and, in his anger, he even forgets the elegant and 
considerate language of the courteous diplomat, which is 
elsewhere always characteristic of his writings. 

“He lies in his throat, ’’.says Bourrienne, “who asserts 
that Bonaparte entertained other feelings for Hortense 
than those a step-father should entertain for his step- 
daughter ! Hortense entertained for the first consul a 
feeling of reverential fear. She always spoke to him 
tremblingly. She never ventured to approach him with 
a petition. She was in the habit of coming to me, and I 
then submitted her wishes ; and only when Bonaparte 
received them unfavorably did I mention the name of 
the petitioner. ‘ The silly thing ! ’ said the first consul ; 
‘ why does she not speak to me herself ? Is she afraid of 
me ? ’ Napoleon always entertained a fatherly affection 
for her ; since his marriage, he loved her as a father 
would have loved his child. I, who for years was a wit- 
ness of her actions in the most private relations of life, I 
declare that I have never seen or heard the slightest cir- 
cumstance that would tend to convict her of a criminal in- 
timacy. One must consider this calumny as belonging to 
the category of those which malice so willingly circulates 
about those persons whose career has been brilliant, and 
which credulity and envy so willingly believe. I declare 
candidly that, if I entertained the slightest doubt with re- 
gard to this horrible calumny, I would say so. But Bona- 


KING OK EMPEKOK. 


103 


parte is no more ! Impartial history must not and shall 
not give countenance to this reproach ; she should not 
make of a father and friend a libertine ! Malicious and 
hostile authors have asserted, without, however, adducing 
any proof, that a criminal intimacy existed between Bona- 
parte and Hortense. A falsehood, an unworthy false- 
hood ! And this report has been generally current, not 
only in France, but throughout all Europe. Alas ! can 
it, then, be true that calumny exercises so mighty a charm 
that, when it has once taken possession of a man, he can 
never be freed from it again ? ” 


CHAPTER Y. 

KING OR EMPEROR. 

Josephine’s entreaties had been fruitless, or Bona- 
parte had, at least, only yielded to them in their literal 
sense. She had said : “ I entreat you, do not make your- 
self a king ! ” Bonaparte did not make himself king, he 
made himself emperor. He did not take up the crown 
that had fallen from the head of the Bourbons ; he cre- 
ated a new one for himself — a crown which the French 
people and Senate had, however, offered him. The revo- 
lution still stood a threatening spectre behind the French 
people ; its return was feared, and, since the discovery of 
the conspiracy of Georges, Moreau, and Pichegru, the 
people anxiously asked themselves what was to become 


104 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


of France if tlie conspirators should succeed in murder- 
ing Bonaparte ; and when the republic should again be 
sent adrift, without a pilot, on the wild sea of revolution. 
The people demanded that their institutions should be 
securely established and maintained, and believed that 
this could only be accomplished by a dynasty — by a mo- 
narchical form of government. The consulate for life 
must therefore be changed into an hereditary empire. 
Had not Bonaparte himself said : “One can be emperor 
of a republic, but not king of a republic ; these two terms 
are incompatible ! ” They desired to make JSTapoleon 
emperor, because they flattered themselves that in so 
doing they should still be able to preserve the republic. 

On the 18th of May, of the year 1804, the plan that 
had been so long and carefully prepared was carried into 
execution. On the 18th of May, the Senate repaired to 
St. Cloud, to entreat Bonaparte, in the name of the peo- 
ple and army, to accept the imperial dignity, and ex- 
change the Homan chair of a consul for the French 
throne of an emperor. 

Cambaceres, the late second consul of the republic, 
stood at the head of the Senate, and upon him devolved 
the duty of imparting to Bonaparte the wishes of the 
French people. Cambaceres — who, as a member of the 
Convention, had voted for the condemnation of Louis 
XVI., in order that royalty should be forever banished 
from French soil — this same Cambaceres was now the 
first to salute Bonaparte with “imperial majesty,” and 
with the little word, so full of significance, “ sire.” He 


KING OR EMPEROR. 


105 


rewarded Oambaceres for this by writing to him on the 
same day, and appointing him high constable of the em- 
pire, as the first act of his imperial rule. In this letter, 
the first document in which Bonaparte signed himself 
merely Napoleon, the emperor retained the republican 
style of writing. He addressed Cambaceres as “ citizen 
consul,” and followed the revolutionary method of reck- 
oning time, his letter being dated “ the 20th Floreal, of 
the year 12.” 

The second act of the emperor, on the first day of his 
new dignity, was to invest the members of his family also 
with new dignities, and to confer upon them the rank of 
Princes of France, with the title “ imperial highness.” 
Moreover, he made his brother Joseph prince elector, 
and his brother Louis connetable. On the same day it 
devolved upon Louis, in his new dignity, to present the 
generals and staff officers to the emperor, and then to 
conduct them to the empress — the Empress Josephine. 

The prophecy of the negress of Martinique was now 
fulfilled. Josephine was “more than a queen.” But 
Josephine, in the midst of the splendor of her new dig- 
nity, could only think, with an anxious heart, of the 
prophecy of the clairvoyante of Paris, who had told her, 
“You will wear a crown, but only for a short time.” 
She felt that this wondrous fortune could not last long — 
that the new emperor would have to do as the kings of 
old had done, and sacrifice his dearest possession to Fate, 
in order to appease the hungry demons of vengeance 
and envy ; and that he would, therefore, sacrifice her, 


106 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

in order to secure the perpetuity of liis fortune and 
dynasty. 

It was this that weighed down the heart of the new 
empress, and made her shrink in alarm from her new 
grandeur. It was, therefore, with a feeling of deep anxi- 
ety that she took possession of the new titles and honors 
that Fate had showered upon her, as from an inexhausti- 
ble horn of plenty. With a degree of alarm, and almost 
with shame, she heard herself addressed with the titles 
with which she had addressed the Queen of France years 
before, in these same halls, when she came to the Tuile- 
ries as Marquise de Beauharnais, to do homage to the 
beautiful Marie Antoinette. She had died on the scaf- 
fold and now Josephine was the “ majesty” that sat en- 
throned in the Tuileries, her brilliant court assembled 
around her, while in a retired nook of England the 
legitimate King of France was leading a lonely and 
gloomy life. 

Josephine, as we have said, was a good royalist ; and, 
as empress, she still mourned over the fate of the unfor- 
tunate Bourbons, and esteemed it her sacred duty to 
assist and advise those who, true to their principles and 
duties, had followed the royal family, or had emigrated, 
in order that they might, at least, not be compelled to do 
homage to the new system. Her purse was always at 
the service of the emigrants ; and, if Josephine continu- 
ally made debts, in spite of her enormous monthly allow- 
ance, her extravagance was not alone the cause, but also 
her kindly, generous heart ; for she was in the habit of 


KING OR EMPEROR. 


107 


setting apart the half of her monthly income for the 
relief of poor emigrants, and, no matter how great her 
own embarrassment, or how pressing her creditors, she 
never suffered the amount devoted to the relief of mis- 
fortune and the reward of fidelity to be applied to any 
other purpose.* 

How that Josephine was an empress, her daughter, 
the wife of the High Constable of France, took the sec- 
ond position at the brilliant court of the emperor. The 
daughter of the beheaded viscount was now a “ Princess 
of France,” an “imperial highness,” who must be ap- 
proached with reverence, who had her court and her 
maids of honor, and whose liberty and personal inclina- 
tions, as was also the case with her mother, were con- 
fined in the fetters of the strict etiquette which Hapoleon 
required to be observed at the new imperial court. 

But neither Josephine nor Hortense allowed herself 
to be blinded by this new splendor. A crown could con- 
fer upon Josephine no additional happiness; glittering 
titles could neither enhance Hortense’s youth and beauty, 
nor alleviate her secret misery. She would have been 
contented to live in retirement, at the side of a beloved 
husband ; her proud position could not indemnify her 
for her lost woman’s happiness. 

But Fate seemed to pity the noble, gentle being, who 
knew how to bear misery and grandeur with the same 
smiling dignity, and offered her a recompense for the 

* Memoires sur la reine Hortense, par le Baron van Schelten, vol. 
i., p. 145. 


8 


108 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


overthrow of her first mother’s hope — a new hope — she 
promised to become a mother again. 

Josephine received this intelligence with delight, for 
her daughter’s hope was a hope for her too. If Hortense 
should give birth to a son, the gods might be reconciled, 
and misfortune be banished from the head of the em- 
press. With this son, the dynasty of the new imperial 
family would be assured ; this son could be the heir of 
the imperial crown, and Napoleon could well adopt as 
his own the child who was at the same time his nephew 
and his grandson. 

Napoleon promised Josephine that he would do this; 
that he would rather content himself with an adopted 
son, in whom the blood of the emperor and of the em- 
press was mixed, than be compelled to separate himself 
from her, from his Josephine. Napoleon still loved his 
wife; he still compared with all he thought good and 
beautiful, the woman who shed around his grandeur the 
lustre of her grace and loveliness. 

When the people greeted their new emperor with 
loud cries of joy and thunders of applause, Napoleon, 
his countenance illumined with exultation, exclaimed: 
“ How glorious a music is this ! These acclamations and 
greetings sound as sweet and soft as the voice of Jose- 
phine ! How proud and happy I am, to be loved by 
such a people ! ” * 

But his proud ambition was not yet sated. As he 
had once said, upon entering the Tuileries as first consul, 
* Bourrienne, vol. iv., p. 228. 


KING OR EMPEROR. 


109 


“ It is not enough to le in the Tuileries ; one must also 
remain there ” — he now said : “ It is not enough to have 
been made emperor by the French people; one must 
also have received his consecration as emperor from the 
Pope of Pome.” 

And Napoleon was now mighty enough to give laws 
to the world ; not only to bend France, but also foreign 
sovereigns, to his will. 

Napoleon desired for his crown the papal consecra- 
tion ; and the Pope left the holy city and repaired to 
Paris, to give the new emperor the blessing of the 
Church in the Cathedral of Notre-Dame. This was 
a new halo around Napoleon’s head — a new, an un- 
bounded triumph, which he celebrated over France, over 
the whole world and its prejudices, and over all the dy- 
nasties by the “ grace of God.” The Pope came to Paris 
to crown the emperor. The German emperors had been 
compelled to make a pilgrimage to Pome, to receive the 
papal benediction, and now the Pope made a pilgrimage 
to Paris to crown the French emperor, and acknowledge 
the son of the Revolution as the consecrated son of the 
Church. All France was intoxicated with delight at this 
intelligence; all France adored the hero, who made of 
the wonders of fiction a reality, and converted even the 
holy chair at Pome into the footstool of his grandeur. 
Napoleon’s journey with Josephine through France, un- 
dertaken while they awaited the Pope’s coming, was, 
therefore, a single, continuous triumph. It was not only 
the people who received him with shouts of joy, but the 


110 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Church also sang to him, everywhere, her sanctus , sane - 
tus , and the priests received him at the doors of their 
churches with loud benedictions, extolling him as the 
savior of France. Everywhere, the imperial couple was 
received with universal exultation, with the ringing of 
bells, with triumphal arches, and solemn addresses of 
welcome, the latter partaking sometimes of a transcend- 
ental nature. 

“ God created Bonaparte,” said the Prefect of Arras, 
in his enthusiastic address to the emperor — “ God created 
Bonaparte, and then He rested.” And Count Louis of 
Narbonne, at that time not yet won over by the emperor, 
and not yet grand-marshal of the imperial court, whis- 
pered, quite audibly : “ God would have done better had 
He rested a little sooner ! ” 

Finally, the intelligence overran all France, that the 
wonder, in which they had not yet dared to believe, had 
become reality, and that Pope Pius YII. had crossed the 
boundaries of France, and was now approaching the 
capital. The Holy Father of the Church, that had now 
arisen victoriously from the ruins of the revolution, was 
everywhere received by the people and authorities with 
the greatest honor. The old royal palace at Fontaine- 
bleau had, by order of the emperor, been refurnished with 
imperial magnificence, and, as a peculiarly delicate atten- 
tion, the Pope’s bedchamber had been arranged in exact 
imitation of his bedchamber in the Quirinal at Pome. 
The emperor, empress, and their suite, now repaired to 
Fontainebleau, to receive Pope Pius YII. The whole 


KING OR EMPEROR. 


Ill 


ceremony had, however, been previously arranged, and 
understanding had with the Pope concerning the various 
questions of etiquette. In conformity with this prear- 
ranged ceremony, when the couriers announced the ap- 
proach of the Pope, Napoleon rode out to the chase, to 
give himself the appearance of meeting the Pope acci- 
dentally on his way. The equipages and the imperial 
court had taken position in the forest of Nemours. Na- 
poleon, however, attired in hunting-dress, rode, with his 
suite, to the summit of a little hill, which the Pope’s car- 
riage had just reached. The Pope at once ordered a 
halt, and the emperor also brought his suite to a stand 
with a gesture of his hand. A brief interval of profound 
silence followed. All felt that a great historical event 
was taking place, and the eyes of all were fastened in 
wondering expectation on the two chief figures of this 
scene — on the emperor, who sat there on his horse, in 
his simple huntsman’s attire; and on the Pope, in his 
gold-embroidered robes, leaning back in his equipage, 
drawn by six horses. 

As Napoleon dismounted, the Pope hastened to de- 
scend from his carriage, hesitating a moment, however, 
after he had already placed his foot on the carriage- 
step ; but Napoleon’s foot had already touched the earth. 
Pius could, therefore, no longer hesitate ; he must make 
up his mind to step, in his white, gold-embroidered satin 
slippers, on the wet soil, softened by a shower of rain, 
that had fallen on the previous day. The emperor’s 
hunting-boots were certainly much better adapted to this 


112 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


meeting in the mud than the Pope’s white satin slip- 
pers. 

Emperor and Pope approached and embraced each 
other tenderly; then, through the inattention of the 
coachmen, seemingly, tile imperial equipage was set in 
motion, and, in its rapid advance, interrupted this tender 
embrace. It seemed to be the merest accident that the 
emperor stood on the right, and the Pope on the left 
side of the equipage, that had now been brought to a 
stand again. The two doors of the carriage w r ere simul- 
taneously thrown open by the lackeys ; at the same time, 
the Pope entered the carriage on the left, and the em- 
peror on the right side, both seating themselves side by 
side at the same time. This settled the question of eti- 
quette. Neither had preceded the other, but the em- 
peror occupied the seat of honor on the Pope’s right. 

The coronation of the imperial pair took place on 
the 2d of December, 1804, in the Cathedral of Notre- 
Dame. Not only all Paris, but all France, was in motion 
on this day. An immense concourse of people surged 
to and fro in the streets ; the windows of all the houses 
were filled with richly-adorned and beautiful women, the 
bells were ringing in all the churches, and joyous music, 
intermixed with the shouts of the people, was heard in 
every direction. For a moment, however, these shouts 
were changed into laughter, and that was when the papal 
procession approached, headed by an ass led by the 
halter, in accordance with an ancient custom of Pome. 
While the Pope, with the high dignitaries of the Church, 





KING OK EMPEROR. 


113 


repaired to the cathedral to await there the coming of 
the imperial couple, Napoleon was putting on the impe- 
rial insignia in the Tuileries, enveloping himself in the 
green velvet mantle, bordered with ermine, and thickly 
studded with brilliants, and arraying himself in the 
whole glittering paraphernalia of his new dignity. 
When already on the point of leaving the Tuileries with 
his wife, who stood at his side in her imperial attire, 
Bonaparte suddenly gave the order that the notary Ragi- 
deau should be called to the palace, as he desired to see 
him at once. 

A messenger was at once sent, in an imperial equi- 
page, to bring him from his dwelling, and in a quarter 
of an hour the little notary Ragideau entered the cabinet 
of the empress, in which the imperial pair were alone, 
awaiting him in their glittering attire. 

His eyes beaming, a triumphant smile on his lips, 
Napoleon stepped forward to meet the little notary. 
“ Well, Master Ragideau,” said he, gayly, “ I have had 
you called, merely to ask you whether General Bonaparte 
really possesses nothing besides his hat and his sword, or 
whether you will now forgive Viscountess Beauharnais 
for having married me ; ” and, as Ragideau looked at 
him in astonishment, and Josephine asked the meaning 
of his strange words, Bonaparte related how, while 
standing in Ragideau’s antechamber on a certain occa- 
sion, he had heard the notary advising Josephine not to 
marry poor little Bonaparte ; not to become the wife of the 
general, who possessed nothing but his hat and his sword. 


114 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


The notary’s words had entered the ambitious young 
man’s heart like a dagger, and had wounded him deeply. 
But he had uttered no complaint, and made no mention 
of it ; but to-day, on the day of his supreme triumph, to- 
day the emperor remembered that moment of humilia- 
tion, and, arrayed with the full insignia of the highest 
earthly dignity, he accorded himself the triumph of re- 
minding the little notary that he had once advised Jose- 
phine not to marry him, because of his poverty. 

The poor General Bonaparte had now transformed 
himself into the mighty Emperor Napoleon. Then he 
possessed nothing but his hat and his sword, but now the 
Pope awaited him in the cathedral of Notre-Dame, to 
place the golden imperial crown on his head. 


CHAPTEB VI. 
napoleon’s heir. 

Hortense had not been able to take any part in the 
festivities of the coronation ; but another festivity had 
been prepared for her in the retirement of her apart- 
ments. She had given birth to a son ; and in this child 
the happy mother found consolation and a new hope. 

Josephine, who had assumed the imperial crown with 
a feeling of foreboding sadness, received the intelligence 
of the birth of her grandson with exultation. It seemed 
to her that the clouds that had been gathering over her 


NAPOLEON’S HEIR. 


115 


head were now dissipated, and that a day of unclouded 
sunshine now smiled down upon her. Hortense had as- 
sured her mother’s future ; she had given birth to a son, 
and had thus given a first support to the new imperial 
dynasty. There was now no longer a reason why Na- 
poleon should entertain the thoughts of a separation, for 
there was a son to whom he could one day bequeath the 
imperial throne of France. 

The emperor also seemed to be disposed to favor Jose- 
phine’s wishes, and to adopt his brother’s son as his own. 
Had he not requested the Pope to delay his departure 
for a few days, in order to baptize the child ? The Pope 
performed this sacred rite at St. Cloud, the emperor hold- 
ing the child, and Madame Letitia standing at his side as 
second witness. Hortense now possessed an object upon 
which she could lavish the whole wealth of love that had 
until now lain concealed in her heart. The little Napo- 
leon Charles was Hortense’s first happy love ; and she 
gave way to this intoxicating feeling with the most in- 
tense delight. 

Josephine’s house was now her home in the fullest 
sense of the word ; she no longer shared her home with 
her husband, and could now bestow her undivided love 
and care upon her child. Louis Napoleon, the Grand- 
Constable of France, had been appointed Governor of 
Piedmont by Napoleon ; and Hortense, owing to her 
delicate health, had not been compelled to accompany 
him, but had been permitted to remain in her little 
house in Paris, which she could exchange when sum- 


116 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

mer came for her husband’s new estate, the castle of 
Saint-Leu. 

But the tranquillity which Josephine enjoyed with 
her child in this charming country-resort was to be of 
short duration. The brother and sister-in-law of the em- 
peror could not hope to be permitted to lead a life of 
retirement. They were rays of the sun that now dazzled 
the whole world ; they must fulfil their destiny, and con- 
tribute their light to the ruling sun. 

An order of Napoleon recalled the constable, who 
had returned from Piedmont a short time before, and 
repaired to Saint-Leu to see his son, to Paris. Napoleon 
had appointed his brother to a brilliant destiny ; the Con- 
stable of France was to become a king. Delegates of the 
Republic of Batavia, the late Holland, had arrived in 
Paris, and requested their mighty neighbor, the Em- 
peror Napoleon, to give them a king, who should unite 
them with the glittering empire, through the ties of 
blood. Napoleon intended to fulfil their -wishes, and 
present them with a king, in the person of his brother 
Louis. 

But Louis was rather appalled than dazzled by this 
offer, and refused to accept the proposed dignity. In 
this refusal he was also in perfect harmony with his 
wife, who did all in her power to strengthen his reso- 
lution. Both felt that the crown which it was proposed 
to place on their heads would be nothing more than a 
golden chain of dependence; that the King of Holland 
could be nothing more than the vassal of France ; and 


NAPOLEON’S HEIR. H7 

their personal relations to each other added another ob- 
jection to this political consideration. 

In Paris, husband and wife could forget the chain 
that bound them together ; there they were in the circle 
of their friends, and could avoid each other. The great, 
glittering imperial court served to separate and reconcile 
the young couple, who had never forgiven themselves 
for having fettered each other in this involuntary union. 
In Paris they had amusements, friends, society ; while in 
Holland they would live in entire dependence on each 
other, and hear continually the rattling of the chain with 
which each had bound the other to the galley of a union 
without love. 

Both felt this, and both were, therefore, united in the 
endeavor to ward off this new misfortune that was sus- 
pended over their heads, in the form of a kingly crown. 

But how could they resist successfully the iron will of 
Napoleon ? Hortense had never had the courage to ad- 
dress Napoleon directly on the subject of her wishes and 
petitions, and Josephine already felt that her wishes no 
longer exercised the power of earlier days over the em- 
peror. She therefore avoided interceding where she was 
not sure of being successful. 

At the outset, Louis had the courage to resist his 
brother openly ; but Napoleon’s angry glance annihilated 
his opposition, and his gentle, yielding nature was forced 
to succumb. In the presence of the deputation of the 
Batavian Bepublic, that so ardently longed for a sceptre 
and crown, Napoleon appealed to his brother Louis to ac- 


118 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


cept theWSrown which had been freely tendered him, and 
to be to his country a king who would respect and pro- 
tect its liberties, its laws, and its religion. 

With emotion, Louis Bonaparte declared himself 
ready to accept this crown, and to be a good and true 
ruler to his new country. 

And to keep this oath faithfully was from this time* 
the single and sacred endeavor to which he devoted his 
every thought and energy. The people of Holland hav- 
ing chosen him to be their king, he was determined to do 
honor to their choice ; having been compelled to give up 
his own country and nationality, he determined to belong 
to his new country with his whole heart and being — to 
become a thorough Hollander, as he could no longer re- 
main a Frenchman. 

This heretofore so gentle and passive nature now de- 
veloped an entirely new energy ; this dreamer, this pale, 
silent brother of the emperor, was now suddenly trans- 
formed into a bold, self-reliant man of action, who had 
fixed his gaze on a noble aim, and was ready to devote 
all the powers of his being to its attainment. As King 
of Holland, he desired, above all, to be beloved by his 
subjects, and to be able to contribute to their welfare and 
happiness. He studied their language with untiring dili- 
gence, and made himself acquainted with their manners 
and customs, for the purpose -of making them his own. 
He investigated the sources of their wealth and of their 
wants, and sought to develop the former and relieve the 
latter. He was restless in his efforts to provide for his 


NAPOLEON’S HEIR. 


119 

country, and to merit the love and confidence which his 
subjects bestowed on him. 

His wife also exerted herself to do justice to her new 
and glittering position, and to wear worthily the crown 
which she had so unwillingly accepted. In her drawing- 
rooms she brought together, at brilliant entertainments, 
the old aristocracy and the new nobility of Holland, and 
taught the stiff society of that country the fine, uncon- 
strained tone, and the vivacious intellectual conversation 
of Parisian society. It was under Hortense’s fostering 
hand that art and science first made their way into the 
aristocratic parlors of Holland, giving to their social re- 
unions a higher and nobler importance. 

And Hortense was not only the protectress of art and 
science, but also the mother of the poor, the ministering 
angel of the unhappy, whose tears she dried, and whose 
misery she alleviated — and this royal pair, though adored 
and blessed by their subjects, could not find within their 
palaces the least reflection of the happiness they so 
well knew how to confer upon others without its walls. 
Between these two beings, so gentle and yielding to 
others, a strange antipathy continued to exist, and not 
even the birth of a second, and of a third, son could fill 
up the chasm that separated them. 

And this chasm was soon to be broadened by a new 
blow of destiny. Hortense’s eldest, the adopted son of 
Napoleon, the presumptive heir to his throne, the child 
that Napoleon loved so dearly that he often played with 
him for hours on the terraces of St. Cloud, the child Jo- 


120 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


sephine worshipped, because its existence seemed to as- 
sure her own happiness, the child that had awakened the 
first feeling of motherly bliss in Hortense’s bosom, the 
child that had often even consoled Louis Bonaparte for 
the unenjoyable present with bright hopes for the future 
— the little Napoleon Charles died in the year 1807, of 
the measles. 

This was a terrific blow that struck the parents, and 
the imperial pair of France with equal force. Napole- 
on’s eyes filled with tears when this intelligence was 
brought him, and a cry of horror escaped Josephine’s 
lips. 

“Now I am lost!” she murmured in alow voice; 
“ now my fate is decided. He will put me away.” 

But after this first egotistical outburst of her own 
pain, she hastened to the Hague to weep with her 
daughter, and bring her away from the place associated 
with her loss and her anguish. Hortense returned with 
the empress to St. Cloud ; while her husband, who had 
almost succumbed to his grief, was compelled to seek 
renewed health in the baths of the Pyrenees. The royal 
palace at the Hague now stood desolate again ; death had 
banished life and joy from its halls; and, though the 
royal pair were subsequently compelled to return to it, 
joy and happiness came back with them no more. 

King Louis had returned from the Pyrenees in a 
more gloomy and ill-natured frame of mind than ever ; 
a sickly distrust, a repulsive irritability, had taken pos- 
session of his whole being, and his young wife no longer 


PREMONITIONS. 


121 


had the good-will to bear with his caprices, and excuse 
his irritable disposition. They were totally different in 
their views, desires, inclinations, and aspirations; and 
their children, instead of being a means of reuniting, 
seemed to estrange them the more, for each insisted on 
considering them his or her exclusive property, and in 
having them educated according to his or her views and 
wishes. 

But Hortense was soon to forget her own household 
troubles and cares, in the greater misery of her mother. 
A letter from Josephine, an agonized appeal to her 
daughter for consolation, recalled Hortense to her moth- 
er’s side, and she left the Hague and hastened to Paris. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PREMONITIONS. 

Josephine’s fears, and the prophecies of the French 
clair voy ante, were now about to be fulfilled. The crown 
which Josephine had reluctantly and sorrowfully ac- 
cepted, and which she had afterward worn with so much 
grace and amiability, with such natural majesty and dig- 
nity, was about to fall from her head. Napoleon had 
the cruel courage, now that the dreamed-of future had 
been realized, to put away from him the woman who 
had loved him and chosen him when he had nothing to 
offer her but his hopes for the future. Josephine, who, 


122 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


with smiling courage and brave fidelity, had stood at his 
side in the times of want and humiliation, was now to 
be banished from his side into the isolation of a glitter- 
ing widowhood. Napoleon had the courage to determine 
that this should be done, but he lacked the courage to 
break it to Josephine, and to pronounce the word of 
separation himself. He was determined to sacrifice to 
his ambition the woman he had so long called his “ good 
angel ; ” and he, who had never trembled in battle, trem- 
bled at the thought of her tears, and avoided meeting 
her sad, entreating gaze. 

But Josephine divined the whole terrible misfortune 
that hung threateningly over her head. She read it in 
the gloomy, averted countenance of the emperor, who, 
since his recent return from Vienna, had caused the door 
that connected his room with that of his wife to be 
locked ; she read it in the faces of the courtiers, who 
dared to address her with less reverence, but with a 
touch of compassionate sympathy ; she heard it in the 
low whispering that ceased when she approached a group 
of persons in her parlors ; it was betrayed to her in the 
covert, mysterious insinuations of the public press, which 
attached a deep and comprehensive significance to the 
emperor’s journey to Vienna. 

She knew that her destiny must now be fulfilled, and 
that she was too weak to offer any resistance. But she 
was determined to act her part as wife and empress 
worthily to the end. Her tears should not flow out- 
wardly, but inwardly to her grief-stricken heart ; she 


PREMONITIONS. 


123 


suppressed her sighs with a smile, and concealed the 
pallor of her cheeks with rouge. But she longed for a 
heart to whom she could confide her anguish, and show 
her tears, and therefore called her daughter to her side. 

How painful was this reunion of mother and daugh- 
ter, how many tears were shed, how bitter were the lamen- 
tations J osephine whispered in her daughter’s ear ! 

“ If you knew,” said she, “ in what torments I have 
passed the last few weeks, in which I was no longer his 
wife, although compelled to appear before the world as 
such ! What glances, Hortense, what glances courtiers 
fasten upon a discarded woman ! In what uncertainty, 
what expectancy more cruel than death, have I lived and 
am I still living, awaiting the lightning stroke that has 
long glowed in Napoleon’s eyes ! ” * 

Hortense listened to her mother’s lamentations with a 
heart full of bitterness. She thought of how she had 
been compelled to sacrifice her own happiness to that of 
her mother, of how she had been condemned to a union 
without love, in order that the happiness of her mother’s 
union might be established on a firm basis. And now all 
had been in vain ; the sacrifice had not sufficed to arrest 
the tide of misfortune now about to bear down her un- 
happy mother. Hortense could do nothing to avert it. 
She was a queen, and yet only a weak, pitiable woman, 
who envied the beggar on the street her freedom and her 
humble lot. Both mother and daughter stood on the 
summit of earthly magnificence, and yet this empress and 

* Josephine’s own words. — Bourrienne, vol. viii., p. 243. 

9 


124 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


this queen felt themselves so poor and miserable, that 
they looked back with envy at the days of the revolution 
— the days in which they had led in retirement a life of 
poverty and want. Then, though struggling with want 
and care, they had been rich in hopes, in wishes, in illu- 
sions ; now, they possessed all that could adorn life ; now 
millions of men bowed down to them, and saluted them 
with the proud word “majesty,” and yet empress and 
queen were now poor in hopes and wishes, poor in the 
illusions that lay shattered at their feet, and rejoicing 
only in the one happiness, that of being able to confide 
their misery to each other. 

A few days after her arrival, the emperor caused Hor- 
tense to be called to his cabinet. He advanced toward 
her with vivacity, but before the gaze of her large eyes 
the glance of the man before whom the whole world now 
bowed, almost quailed. 

“ Hortense,” said he, “ we are now called on to decide 
an important matter, and it is our duty not to recoil. 
The nation has done so much for me and my family, 
that I owe them the sacrifice which they demand of me. 
The tranquillity and welfare of France require that I 
shall choose a wife who can give the country an heir to 
the throne. Josephine has been living in suspense and 
anguish for six months, and this must end. You, Hor- 
tense, are her dearest friend and her confidante ; she loves 
you more than all else in the world. Will you undertake 
to prepare your mother for this step ? You would there- 
by relieve my heart of a heavy burden.” 


THE DIVORCE. 


125 


Hortense had the strength to suppress her tears, and 
fasten her eyes on the emperor’s countenance in a firm, 
determined gaze. His glance again quailed, as the lion 
recoils from the angry glance of a pure, innocent woman. 
Hortense had the courage to positively refuse the em- 
peror’s request. 

“ How, Hortense ! ” exclaimed Napoleon with emo- 
tion. “ You then refuse my request ? ” 

“ Sire,” said she, hardly able longer to restrain her 
tears, “ sire, I have not the strength to stab my mother 
to the heart.” * 

And regardless of etiquette, Hortense turned away 
and left the emperor’s cabinet, the tears pouring in 
streams from her eyes. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DIVORCE. 

Napoleon made one other attempt to impart to Jose- 
phine, through a third person, the distressing tidings of 
his determination with regard to herself. He begged 
Eugene, the Viceroy of Italy, to come to Paris, and on 
his arrival informed him of his intentions and of his 
wish. Eugene, like his sister, received this intelligence 
in silent submissiveness, but like his sister, he refused to 
impart to his mother, tidings that must destroy her hap- 
piness forever. 


Schelten, vol. ii„ p. 45. 


126 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


The emperor had finally to make up his mind to im- 
part the distressing tidings in person. 

It was on the 30th of November, 1809. The em- 
peror and empress dined, as usual, at the same table. 
His gloomy aspect on entering the room made Jose- 
phine’s heart quake ; she read in his countenance that 
the fatal hour had come. But she repressed the tears 
which were rushing to her eyes, and looked entreatingly 
at her daughter, who sat on the opposite side of the table, 
a deathly pallor on her countenance. 

Not a word was spoken during this gloomy, ominous 
dinner. The sighs and half-suppressed moaning that es- 
caped Josephine’s heaving breast were quite audible. 
Without, the wind shrieked and howled dismally, and 
drove the rain violently against the window-panes ; with- 
in, an ominous, oppressive silence prevailed. The commo- 
tion of Nature contrasted, and yet, at the same time, har- 
monized strangely with this human silence. Napoleon 
broke this silence but once, and that was when, in a harsh 
voice, he asked the lackey, who stood behind him, what 
time it was. Then all was still as before. 

At last Napoleon gave the signal to rise from the 
table, and coffee was then taken standing. Napoleon 
drank hastily, and then set the cup down with a trem- 
bling hand, making it ring out as it touched the table 0 
With an angry gesture he dismissed the attendants. 

“Sire, may Hortense remain?” asked Josephine, 
almost inaudibly. 

“ No ! ” exclaimed the emperor, vehemently. Hor- 


THE DIVORCE. 


127 


tense made a profound obeisance, and, taking leave of 
lier mother with a look of tender compassion, left the 
room, followed by the rest. 

The imperial pair were now alone. And how hor- 
rible was this being left alone under the circumstances; 
how sad the silence in which they sat opposite each 
other ! How strange the glance which the emperor fast- 
ened on his wife ! 

She read in his excited, quivering features the strug- 
gle that moved his soul, but she also read in them that 
her hour was come ! 

As he now approached her, his outstretched hand 
trembled, and Josephine shudderingly recoiled. 

Hapoleon took her hand in his, and laid it on his 
heart, regarding her with a long and sorrowful farewell- 
glance. 

“Josephine,” said he, his voice trembling with emo- 
tion, “my good Josephine, you know that I have loved 
you ! To you, and to you alone, do I owe the only mo- 
ments of happiness I have enjoyed in this world. Jose- 
phine, my destiny is stronger than my will. My dearest 
desires must yield to the interests of France.” * 

“ Speak no further,” cried Josephine, withdrawing 
her hand angrily — “ no, speak no further. I understand 
you, and I expected this, but the blow is not the less 
deadly.” 

She could speak no further, her voice failed. A feel- 
ing of despair came over her ; the long-repressed storm 

* The emperor’s own words. See Bourrienne, vol. iii., p. 344. 


128 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


of agony at last broke forth. She wept, she wrung her 
hands; groans escaped her heaving breast, and a loud 
cry of anguish burst from her lips. She at last fainted 
away, and was thus relieved from a consciousness of her 
sufferings. 

When she awoke she found herself on her bed, and 
Hortense and her physician Corvisart at her side. . Jose- 
phine stretched out her trembling arms toward her 
daughter, who threw herself on her mother’s heart, sob- 
bing bitterly. Corvisart silently withdrew, feeling that 
he could be of no further assistance. It had only been 
in his power to recall Josephine to a consciousness of her 
misery ; but for her misery itself he had no medicine ; 
he knew that her tears and her daughter’s sympathy 
could alone give relief. 

Josephine lay weeping in her daughter’s arms, when 
Napoleon came in to inquire after her condition. As he 
seated himself at her bedside, she shrank back with a 
feeling of horror, her tears ceased to flow, and her usu- 
ally so mild and joyous eyes now shot glances of anger 
and offended love at the emperor. But love soon con- 
quered anger. She extended her tremulous hand to Na- 
poleon ; the sad, sweet smile, peculiar to woman, trem- 
bled on her lips, and, in a gentle, touching voice, she 
said : “ Was I not right, my friend, when I shrank back 
in terror from the thought of becoming an empress ? ” * 

Napoleon made no reply. He turned away and 

* Josephine’s own narrative. See Bourrienne, vol. iii., p. 342, 
et seq. 


THE DIVORCE. 


129 


wept. But these farewell tears of his love could not 
change Josephine’s fate ; the emperor had already deter- 
mined it irrevocably. His demand of the hand of the 
Archduchess Marie Louise had already been acceded to 
in Vienna. Nothing now remained to be done but to 
remove Josephine from the throne, and elevate a new, a 
legitimate empress, to the vacant place ! 

The emperor could not and would not retrace his 
steps. He assembled about him all his brothers, all the 
kings, dukes, and princes, created by his mighty w T ill, 
and in the state-chambers of the Tuileries, in the pres- 
ence of his court and the Senate, the emperor appeared ; 
at his side the empress, arrayed for the last time in all the 
insignia of the dignity she was about to lay aside forever. 

In a loud, firm voice the emperor declared to the as- 
sembly his determination to divorce himself from his 
wife; and Josephine, in a trembling voice, often inter- 
rupted by tears, repeated her husband’s words. The 
arch-chancellor, Cambaceres, then caused the appropriate 
paragraph of the Code Civile to be read, applied it to the 
case under consideration, in a short, terse address, and 
pronounced the union of the emperor and empress dis- 
solved. 

This ended the ceremony, and satisfied the require- 
ments of the law. Josephine had now T only to take leave 
of her husband and of the court, and she did this with 
the gentle, angelic composure, in the graceful, sweet 
manner, which was hers in a degree possessed by few 
other women. 


130 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


As she bowed profoundly to Napoleon, her pale face 
illumined by inward emotion, his lips murmured a few 
inaudible words, and his iron countenance quivered for 
an instant with pain. As she then walked through the 
chamber, her children, Hortense and Eugene, on either 
side, and greeted all with a last soft look, a last inclina- 
tion of the head, nothing could be heard but weeping, 
and even those who rejoiced over her downfall, because 
they hoped much from the new empress and the new 
dynasty, were now moved to tears by this silent and yet 
so eloquent leave-taking. 

The sacrifice was accomplished. Napoleon had sac- 
rificed his dearest possession to ambition ; he had di- 
vorced himself from Josephine. 

On the same day she left the Tuileries to repair to 
Malmaison, her future home — to Malmaison, that had 
once been the paradise, and was now to be the widow’s 
seat, of her love. 

Josephine left the court, but the hearts of those who 
constituted this- court did not leave her. During the 
next few weeks the crowds of the coming and going on 
the road from Paris to Malmaison presented the appear- 
ance of a procession ; the equipages of all the kings and 
princes who were sojourning in Paris, and of all the 
nobles and dignitaries of the new France, were to be 
seen there. Even the Faubourg St.-Germain, that still 
preserved its sympathy for the Bourbons, repaired to the 
empress at Malmaison. And this pilgrimage was made 
by the poor and humble, as well as by the rich and great. 


THE KING OF HOLLAND. 


131 


All wished to say to the empress that they still loved and 
honored her, and that she was still enthroned in their 
hearts, although her rule on the throne was at an end. 

The whole people mourned with Josephine and her 
children. It was whispered about that Napoleon’s star 
would now grow pale ; that, with Josephine, his good 
angel had left him, and that the future would avenge 
her tears. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE KING OF HOLLAND. \ 

While Josephine was weeping over her divorce at 
Malmaison, Hortense was seeking one for herself. A 
divorce which her mother lamented as a misfortune, be- 
cause shfe still loved her husband, would have conferred 
happiness upon Hortense, who never had loved her hus- 
band. Once again in harmony with her husband, Hor- 
tense entreated the emperor to permit them to be di- 
vorced, and the king united his entreaties with those of 
the queen. 

But Napoleon was unrelenting. His family should 
not appear before the people as disregarding the sanctity 
of the marriage bond. For state reasons he had separated 
from his wife, and for state reasons he could not give his 
consent to the dissolution of the union of his brother and 
step-daughter. They must, therefore, continue to drag 


132 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

the chain that united them ; and they did, but with angry 
hearts. 

Louis returned to Holland in a more depressed state 
of mind than ever ; while Hortense and her two children, 
in obedience to Napoleon’s express command, remained 
in Paris for some time. They were to attend the festivi- 
ties that were soon to take place at the imperial court in 
honor of the marriage of the emperor with the Arch- 
duchess Marie Louise of Austria. The daughter of the 
divorced empress, with the emperor’s sisters, had been 
selected to carry the train of the new empress on the 
marriage-day. Napoleon wished to prove to France and 
to all Europe that there was no other law in his family 
than his will, and that the daughter of Josephine had 
never ceased to be his obedient daughter also. Napoleon 
wished, moreover, to retain near his young wife, in order 
that she might have at her side a gentle and tender men- 
tor, the queen who had inherited Josephine’s grace and 
loveliness, and who, in her noble womanhood, would set 
a good example to the ladies of his court. Hortense 
mutely obeyed the emperor’s command ; on the 1st of 
April, 1810, the day of the union of Marie Louise with 
the emperor, she, together with his sisters, bore the train 
of the new empress. She alone did this without making 
any resistance, while it was only after the most violent 
opposition to Napoleon’s command that his sisters, Queen 
Caroline of Naples, the Duchess Pauline of Guastalla, 
and the Grand-duchess Elise of Tuscany, consented to 
undergo the humiliation of walking behind their new 


THE KING OF HOLLAND. 


133 


sovereign as humble subjects. And the emperor’s sisters 
were not the only persons who regarded the imperial pair 
with displeasure on the day of the marriage celebration. 
Only a small number of the high dignitaries of the 
Church had responded to the invitation of the grand- 
master of ceremonies, and attended the marriage celebra- 
tion in the chapel in the Tuileries. 

The emperor, who did not wish to punish his sisters 
for their opposition, could at least punish the absence of 
the cardinals, and he did this on the following day. He 
exiled those cardinals who had not appeared in the chapel, 
forbade them to appear in their red robes thenceforth, 
and condemned them to the black penitent’s dress. 

The people of Paris also received the new empress 
with a languid enthusiasm. They regarded the new 
“ Austrian ” with gloomy forebodings ; and when, on the 
occasion of the ball given by Prince Schwartzenberg in 
honor of the imperial marriage, a short time afterward, 
the fearful fire occurred that cost so many human lives 
and destroyed so much family happiness, the people re- 
membered with terror that other misfortune that had oc- 
curred on the day of the entry of Marie Antoinette into 
Paris, and called this fire an earnest of the misfortunes 
which the “ Austrian” would bring upon France and the 
emperor. 

While Hor tense was compelled to attend the festivi- 
ties given in honor of the new empress in Paris, a dark 
storm-cloud was gathering over her husband’s head, that 
was soon to threaten his life and his crown. 


134 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


When Louis, at the emperor’s command, accepted the 
crown of Holland, he had solemnly sworn to be a faithful 
ruler to his new people, and to devote his whole being to 
their welfare. He was too honest a man not to keep this 
oath sacredly. His sole endeavor was to make such ar- 
rangements, and provide such laws, as the welfare and 
prosperity of Holland seemed to require, without in the 
least considering whether these laws were conducive to 
the interests of France or not. He would not regard 
Holland as a province dependent upon France, of which 
he was the governor, but as an independent land that had 
chosen him to be its free and independent king. But 
Napoleon did not view the matter in the same light ; in 
his eyes it was sacrilege for the kingdom of Holland to 
refuse to conform itself in every respect to the interests 
of its powerful neighbor, France. 

When Napoleon invested his brother with the crown 
of Holland, he had charged him “ to be a good king to 
his people, but at the same time to remain a good French- 
man, and protect the interests of France.” Louis had, 
however, endeavored to become a good Hollander ; and 
when the interests of France and Holland came into con- 
flict, the king took the side of his new country, and acted 
as a Hollander. He was of the opinion that the welfare 
of Holland depended on its commerce and industry only, 
and that it could only be great through its commercial 
importance ; he therefore reduced the army and navy, 
making merchantmen of the men-of-war, and peaceful 
sailors of their warlike seamen. 


THE KING OF HOLLAND. 


135 


Napoleon, however, regarded this conversion with dis- 
may, and angrily reproached the King of Holland for 
“disarming whole squadrons, discharging seamen, and 
disorganizing the army, until Holland was without pow- 
er, both on land and water, as though warehouses and 
clerks were the material elements of power.” Napoleon 
reproached the king still more bitterly, however, for hav- 
ing re-established commercial relations with England, for 
having raised the blockade for Holland which France had 
established against England, and for having permitted 
the American ships, that had been banished from the 
ports of France, to anchor quietly in those of Holland. 

The emperor demanded of the King of Holland that 
he should conform himself to his will and to the inter- 
ests of France unconditionally ; that he should imme- 
diately break off all commercial relations between Hol- 
land and England ; that he should re-establish a fleet, of 
forty ships-of-the-line, seven frigates, and seven brigs, 
and an army of twenty-five thousand men, and that he 
should abolish all the privileges of the nobility that were 
contrary to the constitution. 

King Louis had the courage to resist these demands, 
in the name of Holland, and to refuse to obey instruc- 
tions, the execution of which must necessarily have af- 
fected the material interests of Holland most injuriously. 

Napoleon responded to this refusal with a declaration 
of war. The ambassador of Holland received his pass- 
port, and a French army corps was sent to Holland, to 
punish the king’s insolence. 


136 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

But the misfortune that threatened Holland had 
called the king’s whole energy into activity, and Napole- 
on’s anger and threats were powerless to break his reso- 
lution. As the commander of the French troops, the 
Duke of Reggio, approached Amsterdam, to lay siege to 
that city and thereby compel the king to yield, Louis 
determined rather to descend from his throne than to 
submit to the unjust demands of France. He, therefore, 
issued a proclamation to his people, in which he told 
them that he, convinced that he could do nothing more 
to promote their welfare, and, on the contrary, believ- 
ing that he was an obstacle in the way of the restora- 
tion of friendly relations between his brother and Hol- 
land, had determined to abdicate in favor of his two 
sons, Napoleon Louis and Charles Louis Napoleon. 
Until they should attain their majority the queen, in con- 
formity with the constitution, was to be regent. He 
then took leave of his subjects, in a short and touching 
address. He now repaired, in disguise, and under the 
name of Count de St. Leu, through the states of his 
brother Jerome, King of Westphalia, and through Sax- 
ony to Toplitz. 

Here he learned that Napoleon, far from respecting 
and fulfilling the conditions of his abdication, had united 
the kingdom of Holland with the empire. The king 
published a protest against this action of the emperor, in 
which, in the name of his son and heir, Napoleon Louis, 
he denounced this act of the emperor as a totally unjusti- 
fiable act of violence, and demanded that the kingdom of 


THE KING OF HOLLAND. 


137 


Holland should be re-established, in all its integrity, de- 
claring the annexation of Holland to France to be null 
and void, in the name of himself and his sons. 

Hapoleon responded to this protest by causing the 
king to be informed by the French ambassador in Vi- 
enna that unless he returned to France by the 1st of 
December, 1810, he should be regarded and treated as a 
rebel, who dared to resist the head of his family and 
violate the constitution of the empire. 

Louis neither answered nor conformed to this threat. 
He repaired to Gratz, in Styria, and lived there as a pri- 
vate gentleman, beloved and admired, not only by those 
who came in contact with him there, but enjoying the 
esteem of all Europe, which he had won by the noble 
and truly magnanimous manner in wdiich he had sacri- 
ficed his own grandeur to the welfare of his people. 
Even his and Hapoleon’s enemies could not withhold 
from the King of Holland the tribute of their respect, 
and even Louis XVIII. said of him : “ By his abdication, 
Louis Bonaparte has become a true king ; in renouncing 
his crown, he has shown himself worthy to wear it. He 
is the first monarch who has made so great a sacrifice 
out of pure love for his people ; others have also relin- 
quished their thrones, but they did it when weary of 
power. But in this action of the King of Holland there 
is something truly sublime — something that was not 
duly appreciated at first, but which will be admired by 
posterity, if I mistake not, greatly.” * 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. v., p. 47. 


138 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


In Gratz, Louis Bonaparte, Count de St. Leu, lived a 
few peaceful, tranquil years, perhaps the first years of 
happiness he had enjoyed in his short and hitherto 
stormy life. Occupied with work and study, he easily 
forgot his former grandeur and importance. As it had 
once been his ambition to become a good king, it was 
now his ambition to become a good writer. He pub- 
lished his romance Marie, and, encouraged by the success 
which it met with in his circle of friends, he also gave 
his poems to the public — poems whose tender and pas- 
sionate language proved that this so often misunderstood, 
so often repulsed, and, therefore, so timid and distrustful 
heart, could warm with a tenderness of love that Marie 
Pascal, the beautiful artist of the harp, could hardly have 
had the cruelty to withstand. 

But a day came when Louis Bonaparte closed his ear 
to all these sweet voices of happiness, of peace, and of 
love, to listen only to the voice of duty, that appealed to 
him to return to France, to his brother’s side. "While 
the sun of fortune shone over Napoleon, the king, who 
had voluntarily descended from a throne, remained in 
obscurity ; but when the days of misfortune came upon 
the emperor, there could be but one place for his brave 
and faithful brother, and that was at Napoleon’s side. 

Madame de St. Elme, who was at Gratz at this time, 
and who witnessed the farewell scene between Louis Bo- 
naparte and the inhabitants of Gratz, says : “ On the day 
when Austria so unexpectedly sundered its alliance with 
France, King Louis felt the necessity of abandoning an 


THE KING OF HOLLAND. 


139 


asylum, for which he would henceforth have been in- 
debted to the enemies of France, and hastened to claim 
of the great unjust man who had repulsed him, the only 
place commensurate with the dignity of his character, the 
place at his side. 

“ This was a subject of profound sorrow and regret 
for the inhabitants of Gratz, and of all Styria, for there 
was not a pious or useful institution, or a poor family in 
Styria, that had not been the object of his beneficence, 
and yet it was well known that the king who had de- 
scended from his throne so hastily, and with so little 
preparation, had but small means, and denied himself 
many of the enjoyments of life, in order that he might 
lend a helping hand to others. He was entreated, con- 
jured with tears, to remain, but he held firm to his reso- 
lution. And wdien the horses, that they had at first de- 
termined to withhold from him, were at last, at his ear- 
nest and repeated solicitation, provided, the people unhar- 
nessed these horses from his carriage, in order that they 
might take their places, and accompany *him to the gates 
of the city with this demonstration of their love. This 
departure had the appearance of a triumphal procession ; 
and this banished king, without a country, was greeted 
with as lively plaudits on leaving his place of exile as 
when he mounted his throne.” * 

* Memoires d’une contemporaine, vol. iv., p. 377. 


10 


140 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER X. 

JUNOT, THE DUKE d’aBRANTES. 

While the faithful were rallying around Xapoleon 
to render assistance to the hero in his hour of peril — 
while even his brother Louis, forgetting the mortifica- 
tions and injuries he had sustained at the emperor’s 
hands, hastened to his side, there was one of the most 
devoted kept away from him by fate — one upon whom 
the emperor could otherwise have depended in life and 
death. 

This one was his friend and comrade-in-arms, Junot, 
who, descended from an humble family, had by his merit 
and heroism elevated himself to the rank of a Duke 
d’Abrantes. He alone failed to respond when the omi- 
nous roll of the war-drum recalled all Xapoleon’s gener- 
als to Paris. But it was not his will, but fate, that kept 
him away. 

Junot — the *hero of so many battles, the chevalier 
without fear and without reproach, the former governor 
of Madrid, the present governor of Istria and Illyria — 
Junot was suffering from a visitation of the most fearful 
of all diseases — his brain was affected ! The scars that 
covered his head and forehead, and testified so eloquently 
to his gallantry, announced at the same time the source 
of his disease. His head, furrowed by sabre-strokes, was 
outwardly healed, but the wounds had affected his brain. 

The hero of so many battles was transported into a 


JUNOT, THE ' DUKE D’ABRANTES. 


141 


madman. And yet, this madman was still the all-powerful, 
despotic ruler of Istria and Illyria. Napoleon, in appoint- 
ing him governor of these provinces, had invested him 
with truly royal authority. Knowing the noble disposi- 
tion, fidelity, and devotion of his brother-in-arms, he had 
conferred upon him sovereign power to rule in his stead. 
There was, therefore, no one who could take the sceptre 
from his hand, and depose him from his high position. 
Napoleon had placed this sceptre in his hand, and he 
alone could demand it of him. Even the Yiceroy of 
Italy — to whom the Chambers of Istria appealed for 
help in their anxiety — even Eugene, could afford them 
no relief. He could only say to them : “ Send a courier 
to the emperor, and await his reply.” 

But at that time it was not so easy a matter to send 
couriers a distance of a thousand miles ; then there were 
no railroads, no telegraphs. The Illyrians immediately 
sent a courier to the emperor, with an entreaty for their 
relief, but the Russian proverb, “ Heaven is high, and 
the emperor distant,” applied to them also! Weeks 
must elapse before the courier could return with the em- 
peror’s reply ; until then, there was no relief ; and until 
then, there was no authority to obey but the Duke 
d’Abrantes, the poor madman ! 

No other authority, no institution, had the right to 
place itself in his stead, or to assume his prerogatives 
for an instant even, without violating the seal of sover- 
eignty that Napoleon had impressed on the brow of his 
governor ! 


142 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Hapoleon, whose crown w T as already trembling on his 
head, who was already so near his own fall, still possessed 
such gigantic power that its reflection sufficed to protect, 
at a distance of a thousand miles from the boundaries of 
France, the inviolability of a man who had lost his rea- 
son, and no longer had the power of reflection and vo- 
lition. 

How handsome, how amiable, how chivalrous, had 
Junot been in his earlier days ! How well he had known 
how to charm beautiful women in the drawing-rooms, 
soldiers on the battle-field, and knights at the tourney ! 
In all knightly accomplishments he w r as the master — 
always and everywhere the undisputed victor and hero. 
These accomplishments had won the heart of Made- 
moiselle de Premont. The daughter of the proud bar- 
oness of the Faubourg St. Germain had joyfully deter- 
mined, in spite of her mother’s dismay, to become the 
wife of the soldier of the republic, of Napoleon’s com- 
rade-in-arms. Although Junot had no possession but his 
pay, and no nobility but his sword and his renown, this 
nevertheless sufficed to win him the favor of the daugh- 
ter of this aristocratic mother — of the daughter who was 
yet so proud of being the last descendant of the Com- 
neni. Napoleon, who loved to see matrimonial alliances 
consummated between his generals and his nobility and 
the old legitimist nobility of France, rewarded the 
daughter of the Faubourg St. Germain richly for the 
sacrifice she had made for his comrade-in-arms, in giv- 
ing up her illustrious name, and her coat-of-arms, to be- 


JUNOT, THE DUKE D’ABRANTES. 


143 


come tlie wife of a general without ancestors and with- 
out fortune. He made his friend a duke, and the Duch- 
ess d’Abrantes had no longer cause to be ashamed of her 
title ; the descendant of the Comneni could content her- 
self with the homage done her as the wife of the gov- 
ernor of Lisbon, contented with the laurels that adorned 
her husband’s brow — laurels to which he added a new 
branch, but also new wounds, on every battle-field. 

The consequences of these wounds had veiled the 
hero’s laurels with mourning-crape, and destroyed the 
domestic happiness of the poor duchess forever. She 
had first discovered her husband’s sad condition, but she 
had known how to keep it a secret from the rest of the 
world. She had, however, refused to accompany the 
duke to Illyria, and had remained in Paris, still hoping 
that the change of climate and associations might restore 
him to health. 

But her hopes were not to be realized. The attacks 
of madness, that had hitherto occurred at long intervals 
only, now became more frequent, and were soon no 
longer a secret. All Illyria knew that its governor was 
a madman, and yet no one dared to oppose his will, or to 
refuse to obey his commands ; all still bowed to his will, 
in humility and silent submissiveness, hopefully awaiting 
the return of the courier who had been dispatched to 
Napoleon at Paris. 

“But heaven is high, and the emperor distant!” 
And much evil could happen, and did happen, before 
the courier returned to Trieste, where Junot resided. 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


144 

The poor duke’s condition grew worse daily ; his attacks 
of madness became more frequent and more dangerous, 
and broke out on the slightest provocation. 

On one occasion a nightingale, singing in the bushes 
beneath his window, had disturbed his rest; on the fol- 
lowing morning he caused the general alarm to be 
sounded, and two battalions of Croats to be drawn up in 
the park, to begin a campaign against the poor nightin- 
gale, who had dared to disturb his repose. 

On another occasion, Junot fancied he had discov- 
ered a grand conspiracy of all the sheep of Illyria ; 
against this conspiracy he brought the vigilance of the 
police, all the means of the administration, and the whole 
severity of the law, into requisition for its suppression. 

At another time, he suddenly became desperately 
enamoured of a beautiful Greek girl, who belonged to 
his household. Upon her refusal to meet his advances 
favorably, a passionate desperation took possession of Ju- 
not, and he determined to set fire to his palace, and per- 
ish with his love in the flames. Fortunately, his pur- 
pose was discovered, and the fire he had kindled stifled 
at once. 

He would suddenly be overcome with a passionate 
distaste for the grandeur and splendor that surrounded 
him, and long to lay aside his brilliant position, and fly 
to the retirement of an humble and obscure life. 

It was his dearest wish to become a peasant, and be 
able to live in a hut ; and, as there was no one who had 
the right to divest him of his high dignities and grant 


JUNOT, THE DUKE D’ABRANTE.S 


145 


his desire, he formed the resolution to divest himself of 
this oppressive grandeur, by the exercise of his own ful- 
ness of power, and to withdraw himself from the annoy- 
ances imposed upon him by his high position. 

Under the pretence of visiting the provinces, he left 
Trieste, to lead for a few weeks an entirely new life — a 
life that seemed, for a brief period, to soothe his excited 
mind. He arrived, almost incognito, in the little city of 
Gorizia, and demanded to be conducted to the most un- 
pretending establishment to which humble and honest 
laborers were in the habit of resorting for refreshment 
and relaxation. He was directed to an establishment 
called the Ice-house, a place to which poor daily laborers 
resorted, to repose after the . labors of the day, and re- 
fresh themselves with a glass of beer or wine. 

In this Ice-house the governor of Illyria now took 
up his abode. He seldom quitted it, either by day or 
night ; and here, like Haroun-al-Raschid, he took part in 
the harmless merriment of happy and contented poverty. 
And here this poor man was to find a last delight, a last 
consolation ; here he was to find a last friend. 

This last friend of the Duke d’Abrantes — this Py- 
lades of the poor Orestes — was — a madman! — a poor 
simpleton, of good family, who w r as so good-humored and 
harmless that he was allowed to go at large, and free 
scope given to his innocent freaks. He, however, pos- 
sessed a kind of droll, pointed wit, which he sometimes 
brought to bear most effectively, sparing neither rank 
nor position. The half-biting, half-droll remarks of this 


146 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Diogenes of Istria was all that now afforded enjoyment 
to the broken-down old hero. It was with intense de- 
light that he heard the social grandeur and distinctions 
that had cost him so dear made ridiculous by this half- 
witted fellow, whose peculiar forte it was to jeer at the 
pomp that surrounded the governor, and imitate French 
elegance in a highly-burlesque manner ; and w T hen he did 
this, his poor princely friend’s delight knew no bounds. 

On one occasion, after the poor fellow had been en- 
tertaining him in this manner, the Duke d’Abrantes threw 
himself, in his enthusiasm, in his friend’s arms, and in- 
vested him with the insignia of the Legion of Honor, by 
hanging around his neck the grand-cross of this order 
hitherto worn by himself. The emperor had given Ju- 
not authority to distribute this order to the deserving 
throughout the provinces of Illyria and Istria, and the 
governor himself having invested this mad Diogenes 
with the decoration, there was no one who was compe- 
tent to deprive him of it. For weeks this mad fool was 
to be seen in the streets of Gorizia, parading himself like 
a peacock, with the grand-cross of the honorable order of 
the Emperor Hapoleon, and, at the same time, uttering 
the most pointed and biting bon mots at the expense of 
his own decoration. The duke often accompanied him 
in his wanderings through the town, sometimes laughing 
loudly at the fool’s jests, sometimes listening with earnest 
attention, as though his utterances were oracles. Thus 
this strange couple passed the time, either lounging 
through the streets together, or seated side by side on a 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A VENDER OF VIOLETS. I47 

stone by tbe way, engaged in curious reflections on tlie 
passers-by, or philosophizing over the emptiness of all 
glory and grandeur, and over the littleness and malice of 
the world, realizing the heart-rending, impressive scenes 
between Lear and his fool, which Shakespeare’s genius 
has depicted. 

After weeks of anxious suspense, the imperial mes- 
sage, relieving Junot of his authority, and placing the 
Duke of Otranto in his place, at last arrived. The poor 
Duke d’Abrantes left Illyria, and returned to France, 
where, in the little town of Maitbart, after long and 
painful struggles, he ended, in sadness and solitude, a life 
of renown, heroism, and irreproachable integrity. 


CHAPTER XI. 

LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A VENDER OF VIOLETS. 

Gradually, the brilliancy of the sun that had so 
long dazzled the eyes of all Europe began to wax pale, 
and the luminous star of Hapoleon to grow dim among 
the dark clouds that were gathering around him. For- 
tune tad accorded him all that it could bestow upon a 
mortal. It had laid all the crowns of Europe at his feet, 
and made him master of all the monarchies and peoples. 
Hapoleon’s antechamber in Erfurt and in Dresden had 
been the rendezvous of the emperors, kings, and princes 
of Europe, and England alone had never disguised its 


148 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


hostility beneath the mask of friendship, and bent the 
knee to a hated and feared neighbor. Napoleon, the 
master of Europe, whom emperors and kings gladly 
called “brother,” could now proudly remember his past; 
he had now risen so high that he no longer had cause 
to deny his humble origin ; this very lowliness had now 
become a new triumph of his grandeur. 

On one occasion, during the congress at Erfurt, all 
the emperors, kings, and princes, were assembled around 
Napoleon’s table. He occupied the seat between his en- 
thusiastic friend the Emperor of Russia, and his father- 
in-law, the Emperor of Austria. Opposite them sat the 
King of Prussia, his ally, although Napoleon had de- 
prived him of the Rhine provinces ; and the Kings of 
Bavaria and Wiirtemberg, to whom Napoleon had given 
crowns, whose electorate and duchy he had converted 
into kingdoms, and of whom the first had given his 
daughter in marriage to Napoleon’s adopted son, Eugene, 
and the second his daughter to Napoleon’s brother Je- 
rome. There were, further, at the table, the King of 
Saxony and the Grand-duke of Baden, to the latter of 
whom Napoleon had given the hand of Josephine’s 
niece, Stephanie de Beauharnais. All these were princes, 
“ by the grace of God,” of brilliant and haughty dynas- 
ties; and in their midst sat the son of the advocate of 
Corsica — he, the Emperor of France — he, upon whom the 
gaze of all these emperors and kings was fastened in ad- 
miration and respect. Napoleon’s extraordinary memory 
had just been the topic of conversation, and the emperor 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A VENDER OF VIOLETS. 149 

was about to explain how lie had brought it to such a 
state of perfection. 

“ While I was still a sub-lieutenant,” began Napoleon, 
and instantly his hearers let fall their gaze, and looked 
down in shame at their plates, while a cloud of displeas- 
ure passed over the brow of the emperor of Austria at 
this mention of the low origin of his son-in-law. Napo- 
leon observed this, and for an instant his eagle glance 
rested on the embarrassed countenances that surrounded 
him ; he then paused for a moment. He began again, 
speaking with sharp emphasis : “ When I still had the 
honor of being a sub-lieutenant,” said he, and the Em- 
peror Alexander of Russia, the only one of the princes 
who had remained unembarrassed, laid his hand on the 
emperor’s shoulder, smiled approvingly, and listened with 
interest and pleasure to the emperor’s narrative of the 
time when he “ still had the honor of being a sub-lieu- 
tenant.” * 

Napoleon, as we have said, had already mounted so 
high that for him there was no longer a summit to be 
attained, and now his heart’s last and dearest wish had 
been granted by destiny. His wife, Marie Louise, had 
given birth to a son on the 20tli of May, 1811, and the 
advent of the little King of Rome had fulfilled the 
warmest desires of Napoleon and of France. The em- 
peror now had an heir ; Napoleon’s dynasty was assured. 

Festivities were therefore held in honor of this event, 
in the Tuileries, at the courts of the Queen of Naples, of 
* Bossuet, Memoires, vol. v. 


150 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the Grand-duchess de Guastalla, of all the dukes of the 
empire, and of the Queen of Holland. 

Hortense was ill and in pain ; a nervous headache, 
that she had been suffering from for some time, betrayed 
the secret of the pain and grief she had so long con- 
cealed from observation. Her cheeks had grown pale, 
and her eyes had lost their lustre. Her mother wept 
over her lost happiness in Malmaison, and, when Hor- 
tense had wept with and consoled her mother, she was 
compelled to dry her eyes and hasten to the Tuileries, 
and appear, with a smiling countenance, before her who 
was now her empress and her mother’s happy rival. 

But Hortense had accepted her destiny, and was de- 
termined to demean herself as became her own and her 
mother’s dignity. She endeavored to be a true and sin- 
cere friend to the young empress, and fulfil the em- 
peror’s wishes, and to give brilliant entertainments in 
honor of the King of Borne, in spite of the pain it must 
cost her. “ The emperor wills it, the emperor requires 
it ; ” that was sufficient for all who were about him, and 
it was sufficient for her. Her mother had gone because 
it was his will, she had remained because it was his will, 
and she now gave these entertainments for the same 
reason. But there was an element of sadness and gloom 
even in these festivities of the carnival of 1813 ; the 
presence of so many cripples and invalids recalled the 
memory of the reverses of the past year. At the balls 
there was a great scarcity of young men who could 
dance ; incessant w^ars had made the youth of France old 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A VENDER OP VIOLETS. 151 

before tlieir time, and bad converted vigorous men into 
cripples. 

Her heart filled with dark forebodings, Hortense si- 
lently prepared herself against the days of misfortune 
which she knew must inevitably come. When these 
days should come, she wished to be ready to meet them 
with a brave heart and a resolute soul, and she also en- 
deavored to impress on the minds of her two beloved 
sons the inconstancy of fortune, in order that they might 
look misfortune boldly in the face. She had no compas- 
sion with the tender youth of these boys, who were now 
eight and six years old ; no compassion, because she 
loved them too well not to strive to prepare them for 
adversity. 

One day the Duchess of Bassano gave a ball in honor 
of the queen, and Hortense, although low-spirited and 
indisposed, summoned her resolution to her aid, and 
arrayed herself for the occasion. Her blond hair, that 
reached to her feet when unbound, was dressed in the 
ancient Greek style, and adorned with a wreath of flow- 
ers, not natural flowers, however, but consisting of Hor- 
tensias in diamonds. Her dress was of pink-crape em- 
broidered with Hortensias in silver. The hem of her 
dress and its train was encircled with a garland of flow- 
ers composed of roses and violets. A bouquet of Hor- 
tensias in diamonds glittered on her bosom, and her 
necklace and bracelets consisted of little diamond Hor- 
tensias. In this rich and tasteful attire, a present sent 
her by the Empress Josephine the day before, Hortense 


152 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


entered the parlor where the ladies and gentlemen of her 
court awaited her, brilliantly arrayed for the occasion. 

The parlor, filled with these ladies glittering with 
diamonds, and with these cavaliers in their rich, gold- 
embroidered uniforms, presented a brilliant spectacle. 
The queen’s two sons, who came running into the room 
at this moment to hid their “ bonne petite maman ” adieu, 
stood still for an instant, dazzled by this magnificence, 
and then timidly approached the mother who seemed to 
them a queen from the fairy -realm floating in rosy 
clouds. The queen divined the thoughts of her boys, 
whose countenances were for her an open book in winch 
she read every emotion. 

She extended a hand to each of her children, and led 
them to a sofa, on which she seated herself, taking the 
youngest, Louis Napoleon, who was scarcely six years 
old, in her lap, while his elder brother, Napoleon Louis, 
stood at her side, his curly head resting on Hortense’s 
shoulder, gazing tenderly into the pale, expressive face 
of his beautiful mother. 

“ I am very prettily dressed to-day, am I not, Napo- 
leon ?” said Hortense, laying her little hand, that sparkled 
with diamonds, on the head of her eldest son. “ Would 
you like me less if I were poor, and wore no diamonds, 
but merely a plain black dress ? Would you love me less 
then ? ” 

“ No, maw an ! ” exclaimed the boy, almost angrily, 
and little Louis Napoleon, who sat in his mother’s lap, 
repeated in his shrill little voice : “ No, maman / ” 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A VENDER OF VIOLETS. 153 

Tlie queen smiled. “ Diamonds and dress do not con- 
stitute happiness, and we three would love each other just 
as much if we had no jewelry, and were poor. But tell 
me, Napoleon, if you had nothing, and were entirely 
alone in the world, what would you do for yourself ? ” 

“ I would become a soldier,” cried Napoleon, with 
sparkling eyes, “and I would light so bravely that I 
should soon be made an officer.” 

“And you, Louis, what would you do to earn your 
daily bread \ ” 

The little fellow had listened earnestly to his brother’s 
words, and seemed to be thinking over them still. Per- 
haps he felt that the knapsack and musket were too heavy 
for his little shoulders, and that he was, as yet, too weak 
to become a soldier. 

“ I,” said he, after a pause, “ I would sell bouquets of 
violets, like the little boy who stands at the gates of the 
Tuileries, and from whom we buy our flowers every day.” 

The ladies and cavaliers, who had listened to this 
curious conversation in silence, now laughed loudly at 
this naive reply of the little prince. 

“ Do not laugh, ladies,” said the queen, earnestly, as 
she now arose ; “ it was no jest, but a lesson that I gave 
my children, who were so dazzled by jewelry. It is the 
misfortune of princes that they believe that everything is 
subject to them, that they are made of another stuff than 
other men, and have no duties to perform. They know 
nothing of human suffering and want, and do not believe 
that they can ever be affected by anything of the kind. 


154 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


And this is why they are so astounded, and remain so 
helpless, when the hand of misfortune does strike them. 
I wish to preserve my sons from this.” * 

She then stooped and kissed her boys, who, while 
she and her brilliant suite were driving to the Tuileries, 
busied their little heads, considering whether it was easier 
to earn one’s bread as a soldier, or by selling violets at 
the gates of the Tuileries, like the little beggar-boy. 


CHAPTEK XII. 

THE DAYS OF MISFORTUNE. 

The round of festivities with which the people of 
France endeavored to banish the shadow of impending 
misfortune, was soon to be abruptly terminated. The 
thunder of the cannon on the battle-fields of Hanau and 
Leipsic silenced the dancing-music in the Tuileries ; and 
in the drawing-rooms of Queen Hortense, hitherto de- 
voted to music and literature, the ladies were now busily 
engaged in picking lint for the wounded who were daily 
arriving at the hospitals of Paris from the army. The 
declaration of war of Austria and Pussia had aroused 
France from its haughty sense of invincibility. All felt 
that a crisis was at hand. All were preparing for the 
ominous events that were gathering like storm-clouds 
over France. Each of the faithful hastened to assume 


* The queen’s own words. 


THE DAYS OF MISFORTUNE. 


155 


the position to which honor and duty called him. And 
it was in response to such an appeal that Louis Bonaparte 
now returned from Gratz to Paris ; he had heard the 
ominous tones of the voice that threatened the emperor, 
and wished to be at his side in the hour of danger. 

It was not as the wife, but in the spirit of a French- 
woman and a queen, that Hortense received the intelli- 
gence of her husband’s return. “ I am delighted to hear 
it,” said she ; “ my husband is a good Frenchman, and he 
proves it by returning at the moment when all Europe 
has declared against France. He is a man of honor, and 
if our characters could not be made to harmonize, it was 
probably because we both had defects that were irrecon- 
cilable. 

“ I,” added she, with a gentle smile, “ I was too proud, 
I had been spoiled, and was probably too deeply impressed 
with a sense of my own worth ; and this defect is not 
conducive to pleasant relations with one who is distrust- 
ful and low-spirited. But our interests were always the 
same, and his hastening to France, to enroll himself with 
all his brother Frenchmen, for the defence of his country, 
is worthy of the king’s character. It is only by doing 
thus that we can testify our gratitude for the benefits 
the people have conferred upon our family.” * 

In the first days of January, 1814, the news that the 
enemy had crossed the boundaries of France, and that 
the Austrians, Russians, and Prussians, were marching on 
Paris, created a panic throughout the entire city. For 

* Cochelet, Memoires sur la reine Hortense, vol. i., p. 167. 

11 


156 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the first time, after so many years of triumph, France 
trembled for its proud army, and believed in the possi- 
bility of defeat. 

In the Tuileries, also, gloom and dejection ruled the 
hour for the first time ; and while, when the army had 
heretofore gone forth, the question had been, “When 
shall we receive the first intelligence of victory ? ” there 
were now only mute, inquiring glances bent on the em- 
peror’s clouded countenance. 

On the 24th of January, Napoleon left Paris, in or- 
der to repair to the army. The empress, whom he had 
made regent, giving her a council, consisting of his 
brothers and the ministers, as a support — the empress 
had taken leave of him in a flood of tears, and Queen 
Hortense, who had alone been present on this occasion, 
had been compelled to remain for some time with the 
empress, in order to console and encourage her. 

But Hortense was far from feeling the confidence 
which she exhibited in the presence of the empress and 
of her own court. She had never believed in the dura- 
tion of these triumphs and of this fortune; she had 
always awaited the coming evil in silent expectation, 
and she was therefore now ready to face it bravely, and 
to defend herself and her children against its attacks. 
She therefore was calm and self-possessed, while the en- 
tire imperial family was terror-stricken, while all Paris 
was in a panic, while the fearful intelligence, “ The Cos- 
sacks are coming, the Cossacks are marching on Paris ! ” 
was overrunning the city. “ The Grand-duke Constan- 


THE DAYS OP MISFORTUNE. 157 

tine has promised his troops that they shall warm them- 
selves at the burning ruins of Paris, and the Emperor 
Alexander has sworn that he will sleep in the Tuileries.” 

Nothing was now dreamed of but plundering, mur- 
der, and rapine ; people trembled not only for their 
lives, but also for their property, and hastened to bury 
their treasures, their jewelry, their gold and silver, to 
secure it from the rapacious hands of the terrible Cos- 
sacks. Treasures w T ere buried in cellars, or hid away 
in the walls of houses. The Duchess de Bassano caused 
all her valuable effects to be put in a hidden recess, and 
the entrance to the same to be walled up and covered 
with paper. There w^ere among these valuable effects 
several large clocks, in golden cases, that were richly 
studded with precious stones, but it had unfortunately 
been forgotten to stop them, so that for the next week 
they continued to strike the hours regularly, and thereby 
betrayed to the neighbors the secret the duchess had so 
anxiously endeavored to conceal. 

But the cry, “ The Cossacks are coming ! ” was not 
the only alarm-cry of the Parisians. Another, and a 
long-silent cry, was now heard in Paris — a strange cry, 
that had no music for the ear of the imperialist, but one 
that, to the royalist, had a sweet and familiar sound. 
This cry was, “ The Count de Lille ! ” or, as the royalists 
said, “King Louis XVIII.” The royalists no longer 
whispered this name, but proclaimed it loudly and with 
enthusiasm, and even those of them who had attached 
themselves to the imperial court, and played a part at 


158 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the same, now dared to remove their masks a little, and 
show their true countenance. 

Madame Ducayla, one of the most zealous royalists, 
although attached to the court society of the Tuileries, 
had gone to Hartwell, to convey to him messages of love 
and respect in the name of all the royalists of Paris, and 
to tell him that they had now begun to smooth the way 
for his return to France and the throne of his ancestors. 
She had returned with authority to organize the con- 
spiracy of the royalists, and to give them the king’s sanc- 
tion. Talleyrand, the minister of Napoleon, the glitter- 
ing weathercock in politics, had already experienced a 
change in disposition, in consequence of the shifting po- 
litical wind, and when Countess Ducayla, provided with 
secret instructions for Talleyrand from Louis XYIII., 
entered his cabinet and said in a loud voice, “ I come 
from Hartwell, I have seen the king, and he has in- 
structed me — ” he interrupted her in loud and angry 
tones, exclaiming : “Are you mad, madame ? You dare 
to confess such a crime to me?” He had, however, 
then added in a low voice : “You have seen him, then ? 
Well, I am his most devoted servant.” * 

The royalists held meetings and formed conspiracies 
with but little attempt at concealment, and the minister 
of police, Fouche, w T hose eyes and ears were alw r ays on 
the alert, and who knew of everything that occurred in 
Paris, also knew of these conspiracies of the royalists ; 
he did not prevent them, however, but advised caution, 

* Memoires d’une femme de qualite, vol. i., p. 133. 


THE DAYS OF MISFORTUNE. 


159 


endeavoring to prove to them thereby the deep rever- 
ence which he himself experienced for the unfortunate 
royal family. 

In the midst of all this confusion and anxiety, Queen 
Hortense alone preserved her composure and courage, 
and far from endeavoring, like others, to conceal and 
secure her treasures, jewelry, and other valuables, she de- 
termined to make no change or reduction whatever in 
her manner of living ; she wished to show the Parisians 
that the confidence of the imperial family in the emperor 
and his invincibility was not to be shaken. She there- 
fore continued to conduct her household in truly royal 
style, although she had received from the exhausted 
state treasury no payment of the appanage set apart for 
herself and children for a period of three months. But 
she thought little of this ; her generous heart was occm 
pied with entirely different interests than those of her 
own pecuniary affairs. 

She wished to inspire Marie Louise, whom the em- 
peror had constituted empress-regent on his departure 
for the army, with the courage which she herself pos- 
sessed. She conjured her to show herself worthy of the 
confidence the emperor had reposed in her at this critical 
time, and to adopt firm and energetic measures. When, 
on the 28th of March, the terror-inspiring news was cir- 
culated that the hostile armies were only five leagues 
from Paris, and while the people were flying from the 
city in troops, Hortense hastened to the Tuileries to con- 
jure the empress to be firm, and not to leave Paris. She 


160 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


entreated Marie Louise, in the name of the emperor, her 
husband, and the King of Home, her son, not to heed 
the voice of the state council, who, after a long sitting, 
had unanimously declared that Paris could not be held, 
and that the empress, with her son and her council, 
should therefore leave the capital. 

But Marie Louise had remained deaf to all these 
pressing and energetic representations, and the queen 
had not been able to inspire her young and weak sister- 
in-law with her own resolution. 

“ My sister,” Hortense had said to her, “ you will at 
least understand that by leaving Paris now you paralyze 
its defence, and thereby endanger your crown, but I see 
that you are resigned to this sacrifice.” 

“It is true,” Marie Louise had sadly replied. “I 
well know that I should act differently, but it is too late. 
The state council has decided, and I can do nothing ! ” 

In sadness and dejection Hortense had then returned 
to her dwelling, where Lavalette, Madame Key, and the 
ladies of her court, awaited her. 

“ All is lost,” said she, sadly. “ Yes, all is lost. The 
empress has determined to leave Paris. She lightly aban- 
dons France and the emperor. She is about to depart.” 

u If sh e does that,” exclaimed General Lavalette, in 
despair, “ then all is really lost, and yet her firmness 
and courage might now save the emperor, who is ad- 
vancing toward Paris by forced marches. After all this 
weighing and deliberating, they have elected to take the 
worst course they could choose ! • But, as this has finally 


THE DAYS OF MISFORTUNE. 


161 


been determined on, what course will your majesty now 
pursue t ” 

“ I remain in Paris,” said the queen, resolutely ; u as 
I am permitted to be mistress of my own actions, I am 
resolved to remain here and share the fortunes of the 
Parisians, be they good or evil ! This is at least a better 
and worthier course than to incur the risk of being made 
a prisoner on the public highway.” 

Now that she had come to a decision, the queen ex- 
hibited a joyous determination, and her mind recovered 
from its depression. She hastened to dispatch a courier 
to Malmaison to the Empress Josephine, now forgotten 
and neglected by all, to conjure her to leave for Novara 
at once. She then retired to her bedchamber to seek the 
rest she so much needed after so many hours of excite- 
ment. 

But at midnight she was aroused from her repose to a 
sad awakening. Her husband, with whom she had held 
no kind of intercourse since his return, had now, in the 
hour of danger, determined to assert his marital authority 
over his wife and children. He wrote the queen a letter, 
requiring her to leave Paris with her children,, and follow 
the empress. 

Hortense replied with a decided refusal. A second 
categoric message from her husband was the response; 
He declared that if she should not at once conform to 
his will, and follow the empress with her children, he 
would immediately take his children into his own cus- 
tody, by virtue of his authority as husband and father. 


162 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


At this threat, the queen sprang up like an enraged 
lioness from her lair. With glowing cheeks and spark- 
ling eyes she commanded that her children should he at 
once brought to her, and then, pressing her two boys 
to her heart with passionate tenderness, she exclaimed : 
“ Tell the king that I shall leave the city within the 
hour ! ” 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

THE ALLIES IN PARIS. 

The anxiety of motherly love had effected what 
neither the departure of the empress nor the news of the 
approach of the Cossacks could do. Hortense had taken 
her departure. She had quitted Paris, with her children 
and suite, which had already begun to grow sensibly 
smaller, and arrived, after a hurried flight, endangered 
by bands of marauding Cossacks, in Novara, where the 
Empress Josephine, with tears of sorrow and of joy alike, 
pressed her daughter to her heart. Although her own 
happiness and grandeur were gone, and although the 
misfortunes of the Emperor Napoleon — whom she still 
dearly loved — oppressed her heart, Josephine now had 
her daughter and dearest friend at her side, and that was 
a sweet consolation in the midst of all these misfortunes 
and cares. 

At Novara, Hortense received the intelligence of the 
fall of the empire, of the capitulation of Paris, of the 


THE ALLIES IN PARIS. 


163 


entrance of the allies, and of the abdication of Na- 
poleon. 

When the courier sent by the Duke of Bassano with 
this intelligence further informed the Empress Josephine 
that the island of Elba had been assigned Napoleon as a 
domicile, and that he was on the point of leaving France 
to go into exile, Josephine fell, amid tears of anguish, 
into her daughter’s arms, crying : “ Hortense, he is un- 
happy, and I am not with him ! He is banished to Elba ! 
Alas ! but for his wife, I would hasten to his side,- to share 
his exile ! ” 

While the empress was weeping and lamenting, Hor- 
tense had silently withdrawn to her apartments. She 
saw and fully appreciated the consequences that must 
ensue to the emperor’s entire family, from his fall ; she 
already felt the mortifications and insults to which the 
Bonapartes would now be exposed from all quarters, and 
she wished to withdraw herself and children from their 
influence. She formed a quick resolve, and determined 
to carry it out at once. She caused Mademoiselle de 
Cochelet, one of the few ladies of her court who had 
remained faithful, to be called, in order that she might 
impart to her her resolution. 

“ Louise,” said she, “ I intend to emigrate. I am 
alone and defenceless, and ever threatened by a misfor- 
tune that would be more cruel than the loss of crown 
and grandeur — the misfortune of seeing my children torn 
from me by my husband. My mother can remain in 
France — her divorce has made her free and independent ; 


164 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


but I bear a name that will no longer be gladly heard in 
France, now that the Bourbons are returning. I have 
no other fortune than my diamonds. Th6se I shall sell, 
and then go, with my children, to my mother’s estate in 
Martinique. I lived there when a child, and have re- 
tained a pleasant remembrance of the place. It is un- 
doubtedly hard to be compelled to give up country, 
mother, and friends ; but one must face these great 
strokes of destiny courageously. I will give my children 
a good education, and that shall be my consolation.” 

Mademoiselle de Cochelet burst into tears, kissed the 
queen’s extended hand, and begged so earnestly that she 
might be permitted to accompany her, that Horten se at 
last gave a reluctant consent. It was arranged between 
them that Louise should hasten to Paris, in order to 
make the necessary preparations for the queen’s long 
journey ; and she departed on this mission, under the 
protection of the courier, on the following morning. 

How changed and terrible was the aspect Paris pre- 
sented on her arrival ! At the gate through which they 
entered Cossacks stood on guard ; the streets w T ere filled 
with Russian, Austrian, and Prussian soldiery, at whose 
side the proud ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain were 
to be seen walking, in joyous triumph, bestowing upon 
the vanquishers of France as great a devotion as they 
could have lavished upon the beloved Bourbons them- 
selves, whose return was expected in a few days. 

A Swedish regiment was quartered in the queen’s 
dwelling ; her servants had fled ; her glittering drawing- 


THE ALLIES IN PARIS. 


165 


rooms now sheltered the conquerors of France ; and in 
the Tuileries preparations were already being made for 
the reception of the Bourbons. 

No one dared to pronounce the name of Napoleon. 
Those who were formerly his most zealous flatterers were 
now the most ready to condemn him. Those upon whom 
he had conferred the greatest benefits were now the first 
to deny him, hoping thereby to wipe out the remembrance 
of the benefits they had received. The most zealous Na- 
poleonists now became the most ardent royalists, and 
placed the largest white cockades in their hats, in order 
that they might the sooner attract the attention of the 
new rulers. 

But there was still one man who pronounced the name 
of Napoleon loudly, and with affectionate admiration, and 
publicly accorded him the tribute of his respect. 

This one was the Emperor Alexander of Russia. He 
had loved Napoleon so dearly, that even the position of 
hostility which policy compelled him to assume could not 
banish from his heart friendship for the hero who had so 
long ruled Europe. 

Napoleon’s fate was decided ; and it was attributable 
to the zealous efforts of the czar that the allies had con- 
sented to the emperor’s demands, and appointed him sov- 
ereign of the island of Elba. Now that Alexander could 
do nothing more for Napoleon, he desired to make him- 
self useful to his family, at least, and thereby testify the 
admiration which he still felt for the fallen Titan. 

The Empress Marie Louise and the little King of 


166 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Home had no need of his assistance. The empress had 
not availed herself of the permission of the' allies to ac- 
company her husband to Elba, but had placed herself and 
son under the protection of her father, the Emperor of 
Austria. 

The Emperor Alexander therefore bestowed his whole 
sympathy upon Napoleon’s divorced wife and her chil- 
dren, the Yiceroy of Italy and the Queen of Holland. 
He took so great an interest in the queen, that he de- 
clared his intention, in case Hortense should not come 
to Paris, of going to Novara to see her, in order to learn 
from her own lips in what manner he could serve her, 
and how she desired that her future should be shaped. 

Count Nesselrode, the emperor’s minister, was also 
zealous in his endeavors to serve the queen. The count 
had long been the intimate friend of Louise de Cochelet ; 
and, desirous of giving her a further proof of his friend- 
ship, he knew of no better way of doing so than by ren- 
dering a service to Queen Hortense and her children. 
Louise informed the count of the queen’s intended de- 
parture for Martinique. Count Nesselrode smiled sadly 
over this desperate resolve of a brave mother’s heart, and 
instructed Louise to beg the queen to impart to him, 
through her confidante, all her wishes and demands, in 
order that he might lay them before the emperor. 

The queen’s fate was the subject of great sympathy in 
all quarters. When, in one of the sessions of the min- 
isters of the allies, in which the fate of France, of the 
Bourbons, and of the Bonapartes, was to be the subject 


THE ALLIES IN PARIS. 


167 


of deliberation, tlie question of making some provision 
for the emperor’s family came up for consideration, the 
Prince of Benevento exclaimed : “ I plead for Queen 
Hortense alone ; for she is the only one for whom I 
have any esteem.” Count Nesselrode added : “ Who 
would not be proud to claim her as a countrywoman ? 
She is the pearl of her France ! ” And Metternich 
united with the rest in her praise.* 

But it was in vain that Louise de Cochelet imparted 
this intelligence to the queen ; the entreaties and repre- 
sentations of her friends were powerless to persuade Hor- 
tense to leave her retirement and come to Paris. 

The following letter of the queen, written to Louise, 
concerning her affairs, will testify to her beautiful and 
womanly sentiments. This letter is as follows : 

“ My dear Louise, — You and all my friends write me 
the same questions : ‘ What do you w r ant ? What do you 
demand ? ’ I reply to all of you : I want nothing what- 
ever ! What should I desire ? Is not my fate already 
determined ? When one has the strength to form a great 
resolution, and when one can firmly and calmly contem- 
plate the idea of making a journey to India or America, 
it is unnecessary to demand any thing of any one. I en- 
treat you to take no steps that I should be compelled to 
disavow ; I know that you love me, and this might induce 
you to do so. I am really not to be pitied ; it was in the 
midst of grandeur and splendor that I have suffered ! I 


Cochelet, vol. i., p 279. 


168 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


shall now, perhaps, learn the happiness of retirement, and 
prefer it to all the magnificence that once surrounded 
me. I do not believe I can remain in France ; the lively 
interest now shown in my behalf might eventually occa- 
sion mistrust. This idea is annihilating ; I feel it, but 
I shall not willingly occasion sorrow to any one. My 
brother will be happy ; my mother can remain in her 
country, and retain her estates. I, with my children, 
shall go to a foreign land, and, as the happiness of those 
I love is assured, I shall be able to bear the misfortune 
that strikes only at my material interests, but not at my 
heart. I am still deeply moved and confounded by the 
fate that has overtaken the Emperor Napoleon and his 
family. Is it true ? Has all been finally determined ? 
Write me on this subject. I hope that my children will 
not be taken from me ; in that case I should lose all 
courage. I will so educate them that they shall be happy 
in any station of life. I shall teach them to bear fortune 
and misfortune with equal dignity, and to seek true hap- 
piness in contentment with themselves. This is worth 
more than crowns. Fortunately, they are healthy. Thank 
Count Nesselrode for his sympathy. I assure you there 
are days that are properly called days of misfortune, and 
that are yet not without a charm ; such are those that 
enable us to discern the true sentiments people hold 
toward us. I rejoice over the affection which you show 
me, and it will always afford me gratification to tell you 
that I return it. Hortense.” * 


Cochelet, vol. i., pp. 275-277. 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 169 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE 
COCHELET. 

In the meanwhile, Hortense was still living with her 
mother in Novara, firmly resolved to remain in her re- 
tirement, sorrowing over the fate of the imperial house, 
but quite indifferent as to her own fate. 

But her friends — and even in misfortune Hortense 
still had friends — and above all her truest friend, Louise 
de Cochelet, busied themselves all the more about her 
future, endeavoring to rescue out of the general wreck 
of the imperial house at least a few fragments for the 
queen. 

Louise de Cochelet was still sojourning in Paris, and 
the letters which she daily wrote to the queen at Novara, 
and in which she informed her of all that was taking 
place in the city, are so true a picture of that strange and 
confused era, that we cannot refrain from here inserting 
some of them. 

In one of her first letters Louise de Cochelet relates 
a conversation which she had had with Count Nessel- 
rode, in relation to the queen’s future. 

“ The Bourbons,” she writes, “ have now been finally 
accepted. I asked Count Nesselrode, whom I have just 
left : ‘ Do you believe that the queen will be permitted 
to remain in France ? Will the new rulers consider this 
proper ? ’ ‘ Certainly,’ he replied, ‘ I am sure of it, for 


170 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


we will make it a condition with them, and without us 
they would never have come to the throne at all ! It is 
not the Bourbons, but it is we, it is all Europe, that 
arranges and regulates these matters. I therefore trust 
that they will never violate the agreement. Best assured 
that the Emperor Alexander will always support the 
right.’ 

“ All of these strangers here speak of you, madame, 
with great enthusiasm. Metternich, who doubtlessly 
recollects your great kindness to his wife and children, 
inquired after you with lively interest. Prince Leopold 
is devotedly attached to yourself and the Empress Jo- 
sephine, and ardently desires to be able to serve you 
both. Count Nesselrode thinks it would be well for you 
to write to the Emperor Alexander, as he takes so warm 
an interest in your affairs. 

“ The old nobility is already much discontented ; it 
considers itself debased, because it sees itself mixed with 
so many new elements.” 

“ Come to Malmaison with the empress,” she writes a 
few days later, “the Emperor Alexander will then go 
there at once to meet you ; he is anxious to make your 
acquaintance, and you already owe him some thanks, as 
he devotes himself to your interests as though they were 
his own. The Duke of Yicenza, who demeans himself 
so worthily with regard to the Emperor Napoleon, re- 
quests me to inform you that the future of your children 
depends on your coming to Malmaison. 

“The Emperor Napoleon has signed an agreement, 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 

that secures tlie future of all the members of his family ; 
you can remain in France, and retain your titles. You 
are to have for yourself and children an income of four 
hundred thousand francs. 

u It is said here that the Faubourg St. Germain is 
furious over the brilliant positions provided for the im- 
perial family and the empress. This is their gratitude 
for all her goodness to them. 

u You wish to make Switzerland your home. Count 
Nesselrode thinks you may be right, that it is a good re- 
treat; but you should not give up the one you have 
here, and should in any event retain the right to return 
to France. 

66 Fancy, madame, Count Nesselrode insists on my 
seeing his emperor ! I have not yet consented, because 
I do not like to do any thing without your assent ; but I 
confess I long to make his acquaintance. I am made 
quite happy by hearing you so well spoken of here. 

“ Count Nesselrode said to me yesterday : ‘ Tell the 
queen that I shall be happy to fulfil all her wishes, and 
that I can do so, that I have the power.’ For great se- 
curity he wishes to have a future assured you that shall 
be independent of the treaty. I do not know what to 
say to him. Write to me, and demand something, I con- 
jure you ! ” 

The queen’s only response to this appeal was a letter 
addressed to the Emperor Napoleon, and sent to Count 
Nesselrode, with the request that it should be forwarded 

to its destination. 

12 


172 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“ It is strange,” wrote Louise de Cochelet in relation 
to this matter— “ strange that all my efforts to serve you 
here have had no other result than your sending a com- 
mission to Count Nesselrode to forward to Fontainebleau 
a letter addressed to the Emperor Napoleon. He at first 
thought I was bringing him the letter he had solicited 
for his emperor ; but he well knows how to appreciate 
all that is noble and great, and as he possesses the most 
admirable tact, he thinks the letter cannot well reach the 
emperor through him, and will therefore send it to the 
Duke of Yicenza, at Fontainebleau, to be delivered by 
him to the Emperor Napoleon.” 

Another letter of Louise de Cochelet is as follows : 
“ I have just seen Count Nesselrode again ; he makes 
many inquiries concerning you ; the Emperor of Russia 
now resides on the Elysee Bourbon. The count tells me 
a story that is in circulation here, and has reference to 
the Empress Marie Louise and the kings her brothers-in- 
law. They were about to force her to enter a carriage, 
in which they were to continue their journey with her ; 
when she refused to enter, it is said the King of West- 
phalia became so violent that he gave her a little beating. 
She cried for help, and General Caffarelli,* who com- 
manded the guards, came to her rescue. On the follow- 
ing day she and her son w r ere made prisoners, and all 

* According to Napoleon’s instructions, his brothers were to prevent 
the empress and the King of Rome from falling into the hands of 
the enemy. De Baussue narrates this scene in his memoirs, and it 
is self-evident that it was not so stormy as the gossip of Paris por- 
trayed it. 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 173 

the crown diamonds in her possession seized by the au- 
thorities ; but it seems as though capture was precisely 
what she wished. 

“ The Queen of Westphalia has just arrived in Paris ; 
the Emperor Alexander, her cousin, called on her imme- 
diately. It is supposed that she will return to her father. 

“ Your brothers future is not yet determined on, but 
it will certainly be a desirable and worthy one. There 
are many intrigues going on in connection with it, as 
Count Nesselrode informs me. As for the kingdom of 
Naples, it is no longer spoken of. By the details of the 
last war with us, narrated to me by the count, I see that 
he despises many of our ministers and marshals, and that 
these must be very culpable ; and yet he tells me that 
they considered the result uncertain a week before our 
overthrow; as late as the 10th of March they believed 
that peace had been made with Prussia at least. 

“ Do not grieve over the fate of the emperor on the 
island of Elba. The emperor selected it himself ; the 
allies would have preferred any other place. 

“ All the mails arriving at Paris have been seized by 
the allies. Among the letters there was one from the 
Empress Marie Louise to her husband. She writes that 
her son is well, but that on awakening from a good 
night’s rest he had cried and told her he had dreamed 
of his father ; notwithstanding all her coaxing and prom- 
ises of playthings, he had, however, refused to tell what 
he had dreamed of his father, and that this circumstance 
had made her uneasy in spite of her will. 


174 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“Prince Leopold resides in the same house with 
Countess Tascher; he is incessantly busied with yours 
and your mother’s affairs ; he at least is not oblivious of 
the kindness you have both shown him. I know that it 
is his intention to speak to the Emperor of Russia, and 
then write to you. 

“ All your friends say that you must consider the in- 
terest of your children, and accept the future offered 
you. M. de Lavalette and the Duke of Vicenza are also 
of this opinion. You lose enough without this, and you 
may well permit the victors to return a small portion of 
that which they have taken from you, and which is right- 
fully yours. 

“ In short, all your friends demand that you shall re- 
pair to Malmaison as soon as the Emperor Napoleon 
shall have departed from Fontainebleau. I am assured 
that the Emperor Alexander intends to hunt you up in 
Novara if you should not come to Malmaison. It will 
therefore be impossible to avoid him. Consider that the 
fate of your children lies in his hands ! In the treaty 
of Fontainebleau you and your children were provided 
for together ; this is a great point for you, and proves 
how highly you are thought of. 

“ It is to the Emperor of Russia alone that you owe 
this ; and when the Duke of Vicenza submitted this arti- 
cle of the treaty to the Emperor Napoleon for his signa- 
ture, it met with his entire approval. Your sole and 
undivided authority over your children is thereby ac- 
knowledged. You should, therefore, not reject the good 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 175 

offered you for your children. I do not think it would 
require much persuasion to induce others to accept that 
which is tendered you. 

“ Madame Tascher, who has proved herself to be 
your true friend and relative, has just had her first inter- 
view with the Duke of Dalberg, the member of the pro- 
visional government. She spoke of you, and I will here 
give you his response, word for word : ‘ She is consid- 
ered as being altogether foreign to the Bonaparte family, 
because she has separated herself from her husband. She 
will be the refuge of her children, who are left to her. 
She is so dearly beloved and highly esteemed, that she 
can be very happy. She can remain in France, and do 
whatever she pleases ; but she must now return to Paris.’ 
Countess Tascher came to me immediately after leav- 
ing the duke, in order to acquaint me with what he 
had said. 

“ Friends and foes alike say this about you : 1 Those 
who are not delighted with what is being done for the 
queen are bad people ! And as for her, what has she to 
regret in all this ? Only the good she has done ! Now, 
the world will dare to love her, and to express their love ; 
she has so few wishes, she is so perfect ! ’ 

“ In short, it would seem almost that the people are 
pleased with the misfortune that places you in the right 
light, and they say, ‘ She is far more 'worthy in herself 
than when surrounded by a glittering court ! ’ 

“ Yesterday I saw the new arrivals from Fontaine- 
bleau, M. de Lascour and M. de Lavoestine. They came 


176 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


to me to learn where yon were to be found, and intend 
visiting yon at once, either at Novara or at Malmaison, 
as the case may be. These two gentlemen are true 
knights. 4 No matter what she is to become,’ said they ; 
4 we can now show our devotion, without incurring the 
risk of being considered flatterers.’ 

44 The last two weeks at Fontainebleau have been a 
period of the greatest interest. All these young men, 
together with M. de Labedoyere and M. de Montesquieu, 
wished to accompany the emperor ; but he forbade their 
doing so, and, in taking leave of them, appealed to them 
to remain, and to continue to serve their country zeab 
ously. 

44 Lascour and Lavoestine, together with many other 
officers of the army, are much displeased with the gem 
erals who left Fontainebleau without taking leave of the 
emperor. 

44 Upon taking leave of the Empress Josephine, the 
emperor is reported to have said : 4 She was right ; my 
separation from her has brought misfortune upon my 
head.’ 

44 It is said that the Duchess of Montebello will leave 
the Empress Marie Louise.” 

But all these entreaties and flatteries, and these ap- 
peals to a mother’s heart, were, as yet, powerless to break 
the queen’s pride. She still considered it more worthy 
and becoming to remain away from the city in which the 
ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain were celebrating 
the orgies of their victorious royalism with the soldiers 


/ 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 177 

of the allied armies. Instead of yielding to Louise de 
Cochelet’s entreaties, the queen wrote her the following 
letter : 

“ My dear Louise, — My resolution gives you pain ! 
You all accuse me of childish waywardness. You are 
unjust ! My mother can follow the Duke de Yicenza’s 
counsel ; she will go to Malmaison, but I remain here , 
and I have good reasons for doing so. I cannot separate 
my interests from those of my children. It is they, it is 
their nearest relatives, who are being sacrificed by all 
that is taking place, and I am, therefore, determined not 
to approach those who are working our ruin. I must be 
saddened by our great misfortune, and I will appear 
so, and abstain from approaching those who would still 
consider me a supplicant, even though I should demand 
nothing of them. 

“ I can readily believe that the Emperor Alexander is 
kindly disposed toward me ; I have heard much good of 
him, even from the Emperor Napoleon. Although I was 
once anxious to make his acquaintance, I at this moment 
have no desire to see him. Is he not our vanquisher ? 
In their hearts, your friends must all approve of my de- 
termination, whatever they may say. I find retirement 
congenial. When you have seen enough of your friends, 
you will return to me. I am suffering in my breast, and 
shall perhaps go to some watering-place. I do not know 
whether it is due to the air of Novara, but since I have 
been here I cannot breathe. My friends maintain that 


178 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


it is due to tlie mental shocks resulting from the great 
events that have transpired ; but they are in error ; death 
has spared us all, and the loss of a glittering position is 
not the greatest loss one can sustain. What personal hap- 
piness do I lose ? My brother will, I trust, be well and 
suitably provided for, and he will be no longer exposed 
to danger. He must be very uneasy on our account, and 
yet I dare not write to him, as my letters would probably 
never reach him ; if an opportunity should present itself, 
please let him know that we are no longer surrounded by 
dangers. Adieu. I entreat you once more to undertake 
nothing in my behalf. I fear your impetuosity and 
friendship, and yet I love to be able to count on you. 
My children are well. My mother opposes all my plans ; 
she asserts that she has need of me ; but I shall, never- 
theless, go to her who must now be more unhappy than 
all of us. Hortense.” 

She of whom Hortense thought that she must be 
more unhappy than all of them, was the wife of Napo- 
leon, Marie Louise, who had now left Blois, to which 
place she had gone as empress-regent, and repaired to 
Hambouillet, to await the decision of the allies with re- 
gard to the future of herself and son. It was certainly 
one of the most peculiar features of this period, so rich 
in extraordinary occurrences, to see the sovereigns of 
Europe, the overthrown rulers of France, and those who 
were about to grasp the sceptre once more, thrown con- 
fusedly together in Paris, and within a circuit of some 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 179 

fifty miles around that city : a Bourbon in the Tuileries, 
Bonaparte at Fontainebleau, his wife and his son at Ram- 
bouillet, the divorced empress at Novara, the Emperors 
of Russia and Austria, and the King of Prussia, at Paris ; 
moreover, a whole train of little German potentates and 
princes, and the Napoleonic kings and princes, who were 
all sojourning in Paris or its vicinity. 

The Queen of Holland considered it her duty, in these 
days of misfortune and danger, to stand at the side of her 
whom Napoleon had commanded them to consider the 
head of the family, and to serve faithfully in life and 
death. Hortense therefore determined to go to the Em- 
press Marie Louise at Rambouillet, in accordance with 
the emperor’s commands. 

This determination filled the hearts of the queen’s 
friends with sorrow ; and Louise had no sooner received 
the letter in which the queen announced her impending 
departure, than she hastened to reply, imploring her to 
abandon this intention. M. de Marmold, the queen’s 
equerry, departed with all speed to bring this letter to 
the queen at Louis, where she was to pass the night, and 
to add his entreaties to those of Louise. 

“ M. de Marmold, the bearer of this letter, will deliver 
it to you at Louis, if he arrives there in good time,” wrote 
Louise de Cochelet. “ If you go to Rambouillet, you will 
destroy your own position, and also that of your children ; 
this is the conviction of all your friends. I was so happy, 
for Prince Leopold had written you, in the name of the 
Emperor Alexander, and begged you to come to Mab 


180 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


inaison. You could not have avoided seeing him, as lie 
would even have gone to Novara. Instead, however, of 
returning with the Empress Josephine, you are on the 
point of uniting yourself with a family that has never 
loved you. With them you will experience nothing hut 
distress, and they will not be thankful for the sacrifice 
you are about to make. You will regret this step when 
it is too late. I conjure you, do not go to Rambouillet ! 

“ Your course will touch those to whom you are going 
but little, and will displease the allies, who take so much 
interest in you. 

“ The empress is a thorough Austrian at heart, and 
the visits of members of her husband’s family are regard- 
ed with disfavor. I tell you this at the request of Prince 
Leopold and Madame de Caulaincourt. The latter, if you 
do not come here soon, will go to you, in spite of her 
great age. She conjures you not to go to Rambouillet, as 
your lady of honor, and the friend of your mother ; she 
even forbids your doing so. 

“ When I informed Prince Leopold of your intention 
to go to the Empress Marie Louise at Rambouillet, his 
eyes filled with tears. * It is beautiful to be proud,’ said 
he, ‘ but she can no longer retreat ; she is already under 
obligations to the Emperor of Russia, who effected the 
treaty of the 11th of April. I await her reply, to deliver 
it to the emperor : she owes him a reply.’ 

“ I passed an hour with our good friend Lavalette 
this morning. This excellent man knew nothing of the 
measures we have been taking to persuade you to return, 


THE QUEEN AND LOUISE DE COCHELET. 181 

and said to me : ‘ How fortunate it would be for her and 
her children, if the emperor should desire to see her ! ’ 
Do come, do come ; show your friends this favor ; we 
shall all be in despair if you go to Rambouillet ! 

“ Prince Leopold will write you a few lines. He 
could not be more devoted to yourself and the Empress 
Josephine if you were his mother and his sister. Count 
Tschernitscheff has been to see me. The Emperor of 
Austria arrives here to-morrow, and the new French 
princes and the king will soon follow. What a change ! 

“ You must see the Emperor of Russia, because he so 
much desires it. I conjure you, on my knees, to do me 
this favor ! The emperor conducts himself so hand- 
somely that every one is constrained to respect him ; one 
forgets that he is the conqueror, and can only remember 
him as the protector. He seems to be the refuge of all 
those who have lost all, and are in distress. His conduct 
is admirable ; he receives none but business calls, and 
such others as are absolutely necessary. The fair ladies 
of the Faubourg St. Germain cannot boast of his atten- 
tion to them, and this does him all the more credit, he 
being, as it is said, very susceptible to the fair sex. He 
told Prince Leopold that he intended going to Ho vara, 
adding : ‘You know that I love and esteem this family ; 
Prince Eugene is the prince of knights ; I esteem the Em- 
press Josephine, Queen Hortense, and Prince Eugene, all 
the more from the fact that her demeanor toward the 
Emperor Hapoleon has been so much more noble than 
that of so many others, who should have shown him 


l 


182 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


more devotion. 5 How could it be possible not to respect 
a man of such nobility of character ? I trust you will 
soon have an opportunity of judging of this yourself. 
For God’s sake, return ! Louise . 55 

But these entreaties were all in vain. M. de Mar- 
mold arrived at Louis in time to see the queen ; he de- 
livered the letters of her friends, and did all that lay in 
his power to persuade her not to go to Rambouillet. 

But Hortense held firmly to her intention. “ You 
are right,” said she. “ All this is true ; but I shall, nev- 
ertheless, go to the Empress Marie Louise, for it is my 
duty to do so. If unpleasant consequences should result 
from this step for me, I shall pay no attention to them, 
but merely continue to do my duty. Of all of us, the 
Empress Marie Louise must be the most unhappy, and 
must stand most in need of consolation ; it is, therefore, 
at her side that I can be of most use, and nothing can 
alter my determination.” 


CHAPTER XY. 

QUEEN HORTENSE AND THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER. 

Queen Hortense had gone to Rambouillet, in spite 
of the entreaties and exhortations of her friends. The 
Empress Marie Louise had, however, received her with 
an air of embarrassment. She had told the queen that 
she was expecting her father, the Emperor of Austria, 


QUEEN HORTENSE AND EMPEROR ALEXANDER. 183 

and that she feared the queen’s presence might make him 
feel ill at ease. Moreover, the young empress, although 
dejected and grave, was by no means so sorrowful and 
miserable as Hortense expected. The fate of her hus- 
band had not wounded the heart of Marie Louise as 
deeply as that of the Empress Josephine. 

Hortense felt that she was not needed there ; that the 
presence of the Emperor of Austria would suffice to 
console the Empress of France for her husband’s over- 
throw. She thought of Josephine, who was so deeply 
saddened by .Napoleon’s fate ; and finding that, instead 
of consoling, she only embarrassed the Empress Marie 
Louise, she hastened to relieve her of her presence. 

And now, at last, Hortense bowed her proud, pure 
heart beneath the yoke of necessity; now, at last, she 
listened to the prayers and representations of her mother, 
who had returned to Malmaison, and of her friends, and 
went to Paris. It had been too often urged upon her 
that she owed it to her sons to secure their fortune and 
future, not to overcome her personal repugnance, and 
conform herself to this new command of duty. 

She had, therefore, returned to Paris for a few days, 
and taken up her abode in her dwelling, whose present 
dreariness recalled, with sorrowful eloquence, the grand- 
eur of the past. 

These drawing-rooms, once the rendezvous of so many 
kings and princes, were now desolate, and bore on their 
soiled floors the footprints of the hostile soldiers who 
had recently been quartered there. At the czar’s solici- 


184 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tation, they had now been removed; but the queen’s 
household servants had also left it. Faithless and un- 
grateful, they had turned their backs on the setting sun, 
and fled from the storm that had burst over the head of 
their mistress. 

The Emperor Alexander hastened to the queen’s 
dwelling as soon as her arrival in Paris was announced, 
the queen advancing to meet him as far as the outermost 
antechamber. 

“ Sire,” said she, with a soft smile, “ I have no means 
of receiving you with due ceremony ; my antechambers 
are deserted.” 

The appearance of this solitary woman, this queen 
without a crown, without fortune, and without protection 
and support, who nevertheless stood before him in all the 
charms of beauty and womanhood, a soft smile on her 
lips, made a deep impression on the emperor, and his 
eyes filled with tears. 

The queen observed this, and hastened to say, “ But 
what of that ? I do not think that antechambers filled 
with gold-embroidered liveries would make those who 
come to see me happier, and I esteem myself happy in 
being able to do you the honors of my house alone. I 
have, therefore, only won.” 

The emperor took her hand, and, while conducting 
the queen to her room, conversed with her, with that 
soft, sad expression peculiar to him, lamenting with bit- 
ter self-reproaches almost that he was himself, in part, to 
blame for the misfortunes that had overtaken the em- 


QUEEN HORTENSE AND EMPEROR ALEXANDER. 185 

peror and his family. He then conjured her to abandon 
her intention of leaving France, and to preserve herself 
for her mother and friends. He told her that, in aban- 
doning her country, her friends, and her rights, she 
would be guilty of a crime against her own children, 
against her two sons, who were entitled to demand a 
country and a fortune at her hands. 

The queen, overcome at last by these earnest and 
eloquent representations, declared her readiness to re- 
main in France, if the welfare of her sons should 
require it. 

“Until now,” said she, “I had formed all my reso- 
lutions with reference to misfortune. I was entirely re- 
signed, and I never thought of the possibility of any 
thing fortunate happening for me ; and even yet, I do 
not know what I can desire and demand. I am, how- 
ever, determined to accept nothing for myself and chil- 
dren that would be unworthy of us, and I do not know 
what that could be.” 

With an assuring smile, the emperor extended his 
hand to the queen. “ Leave that to me,” said he. “ It 
is, then, understood, you are to remain in France \ ” 

“ Sire, you have convinced me that the future of my 
sons requires it. I shall therefore remain.” 


186 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE NEW UNCLES. 

Malmaison, to which place Hortense had returned 
after a short stay in Paris, and where the Empress Jose- 
phine was also sojourning, was a kind of focus for social 
amusement and relaxation for the sovereigns assembled 
in Paris. Each of these kings and princes wished to 
pay his homage to the Empress Josephine and her 
daughter, and thereby, in a measure, show the last hon- 
ors to the dethroned emperor. 

On one occasion, when the King of Prussia, with his 
two sons, Prince Frederick William (the late king) and 
William, had come to Malmaison, and announced their 
desire to call on the empress, she sent them an invitation 
to a family dinner, at which she also invited the Em- 
peror of Russia and his two brothers to attend. 

The emperor accepted this invitation, and on enter- 
ing, with the young archdukes, the parlor in which the 
Duchess de St. Leu was sitting, he took his two brothers 
by the hand and conducted them to Hortense. 

“ Madame,” said he, “ I confide my brothers to your 
keeping. They are now making their debut in society. 
My mother fears their heads may be turned by the beau- 
ties of France; and in bringing them to Malmaison, 
where so many charming persons are assembled, I am 
certainly fulfilling my promise to preserve them from 
such a fate but poorly.” 


THE NEW UNCLES. 


187 


“ Reassure yourself, sire,” replied the queen, gravely ; 
“ I will be their mentor, and I promise you a motherly 
surveillance.” 

The emperor laughed, and, pointing to Hortense’s 
two sons, who had just been brought in, he said : “ Ah, 
madame, it would be much less dangerous for my broth- 
ers if they were of the age of these boys.” 

He approached the two boys with extended hands, 
and while conversing with them in a kindly and affec- 
tionate manner, addressed them with the titles “mon- 
seigneur ” and “ imperial highness.” 

The children regarded him wonderingly, for the Rus- 
sian emperor was the first to address the little Napoleon 
and his younger brother, Louis Napoleon, with these im- 
posing titles. The queen had never allowed them to be 
called by any but their own names. She wished to pre- 
serve them from vain pride, and teach them to depend 
on their own intrinsic merit. 

Shortly afterward the King of Prussia and his sons 
were announced, and the emperor and his brothers left 
the young princes, and advanced to meet the king. 

While the emperor and the king were exchanging 
salutations, Hortense’s two sons inquired of their gov- 
erness the names of the gentlemen who had just entered. 

“ It is the King of Prussia,” whispered the govern- 
ess ; “ and the gentleman who has just spoken with you 
is the Emperor of Russia.” 

The little Louis Napoleon regarded the tall figures 
of these princes thoughtfully for a moment, by no means 
13 


188 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


impressed by tbeir imposing titles. He was so accus- 
tomed to see bis mother surrounded by kings, and these 
kings had always been his uncles. 

“ Mademoiselle,” said the little Louis Napoleon, after 
a short pause, “are these two new gentlemen, the em- 
peror and the king, also our uncles, like all the others, 
and must we call them so ? ” 

“ No, Louis, you must simply call them ‘ sire.’ ” 
‘‘But,” said the boy, after a moment’s reflection, 
“ why is it that they are not our uncles ? ” 

The governess withdrew with the two children to the 
back of the parlor, and explained to them, in a low voice, 
that the emperors and kings then in Paris, far from 
being their uncles, were their vanquishers. 

“ Then,” exclaimed the elder boy, Napoleon Louis, his 
face flushing with anger, “ then they are the enemies 
of my uncle, the emperor ! Why did this Emperor of 
Russia embrace us ? ” 

“ Because he is a noble and generous enemy, who is 
endeavoring to serve you and your mother in your pres- 
ent misfortune. Without him you would possess nothing 
more in the world, and the fate of your uncle, the em- 
peror, would be much sadder than it already is.” 

“ Then we ought to love this emperor very dearly ? ” 
said the little Louis Napoleon. 

“ Certainly ; for you owe him many thanks.” 

The young prince regarded the emperor, who was 
((conversing with the empress Josephine, long and 
thoughtfully. 


DEATH OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 


189 


When the emperor returned to Malmaison on the 
following day, and while he was sitting at his mother’s 
side in the garden-house, little Louis Napoleon, walking 
on tiptoe, noiselessly approached the emperor from be- 
hind, laid a small glittering object in his hand, and ran 
away. 

The queen called him back, and demanded with ear- 
nest severity to know what he had done. 

The little prince returned reluctantly, hanging his 
head with embarrassment, and said, blushing deeply : 
“ Ah, mam, an, it is the ring Uncle Eugene gave me. I 
wished to give it to the emperor, because he is so good to 
my maman ! ” 

Deeply touched, the emperor took the boy in his 
arms, seated him on his knees, and kissed him tenderly. 

Then, in order to give the little prince an immediate 
reward, he attached the ring to his watch-chain, and 
swore that he would wear the token as long as he lived.* 


CHAPTER XYII. 

DEATH OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 

Since Napoleon’s star had grown pale, and himself 
compelled to leave France as an exile, life seemed to Jo- 
sephine also to be enveloped in a gloomy mourning-veil ; 
she felt that her sun had set, and night come upon her. 


* Cochelet, vol. i., p. 355. 


190 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


But slie kept this feeling a profound secret, and never 
allowed a complaint or sigh to betray her grief to her 
tenderly-beloved daughter. Her complaints were for the 
emperor, her sighs for the fate of her children and 
grandchildren. She seemed to have forgotten herself ; 
her wishes were all for others. With the pleasing ad- 
dress and grace of which age could not deprive her, she 
did the honors of her house to the foreign sovereigns in 
Malmaison, and assumed a forced composure, in which 
her soul had no share. She would have preferred to 
withdraw with her grief to the retirement of her cham- 
bers, but she thought it her duty to make this sacrifice 
for the welfare of her daughter and grandchildren ; and 
she, the loving mother, could do what Hortense’s pride 
would not permit — she could entreat the Emperor Alex- 
ander to take pity on her daughter’s fate. 

When, therefore, the czar had finally succeeded in 
establishing her future, and had received the letters-pat- 
ent which secured to the queen the duchy of St. Leu, 
Alexander hastened to Malmaison, to communicate this 
good news to the Empress Josephine. 

She did not reward him with words, but with gush- 
ing tears, as she extended to the emperor both hands. 
She then begged him, with touching earnestness, to ac- 
cept from her a remembrance of this hour. 

The emperor pointed to a cup, on which a portrait of 
Josephine was painted, and begged her to give him that. 

“No, sire,” said she; “such a cup can be bought 
an^Where. But I wish to give you something that can- 


DEATH OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 191 

not be had anywhere else in the world, and that will 
sometimes remind you of me. It is a present that I 
received from Pope Pius VII., on the day of my coro- 
nation. I present you with this token in commemora- 
tion of the day on which you bring my daughter the 
ducal crown, in order that it may remind you of mother 
and daughter alike — of the dethroned empress and of 
the dethroned queen.” 

This present, which she now extended to the em- 
peror with a charming smile, was an antique cameo, of 
immense size, and so wondrously-well executed that the 
empress could well say its equal was nowhere to be 
found in the world. On this cameo the heads of Alex- 
ander the Great and of his father, Philip of Macedonia, 
were portrayed, side by side ; and the beauty of the 
workmanship, as well as the size of the stone, made this 
cameo a gem of inestimable value. And for this reason 
the emperor at first refused to accept this truly imperial 
present, and he yielded only when he perceived that his 
refusal would offend the empress, who seemed to be 
more pale and irritable than usual. 

Josephine was, in reality, sadder than usual, for the 
royal family of the Bourbons had on this day caused her 
heart to bleed anew. Josephine had read an article in 
the journals, in which, in the most contemptuous and 
cruel terms, attention was called to the fact that the eld- 
est son of the Queen of Holland had been interred in the 
Cathedral of Notre-Dame, and that the Minister Blacas 
had now issued an order to have the coffin removed 


192 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

from its resting-place, and buried in an ordinary grave- 
yard. 

Hortense, who had read this article, had hastened to 
Paris, in order that she might herself superintend the 
removal of the body of her beloved child from Notre- 
Dame, and its reinterment in the Church of St. Leu. 

While she informed the emperor of this new insult, 
Josephine’s whole figure trembled, and a deathly pal- 
lor overspread her countenance. Josephine lacked the 
strength to conceal her sufferings to-day, for the first 
time ; Hortense was not present, and she might there- 
fore, for once, allow herself the sad consolation of show- 
ing, bereft of its smile and its paint, the pale counte- 
nance, which death had already lightly touched. 

“ Your majesty is ill ! ” exclaimed the emperor, in 
dismay. 

With a smile, which brought tears to Alexander’s 
eyes, Josephine pointed to her breast, and whispered: 
“ Sire, I have received the death-wound here ! ” 

Yes, she was right ; she had received a fatal w T ound, 
and her heart was bleeding to death. 

Terrified by Josephine’s condition, the emperor hur- 
ried to Paris, and sent his own physician to inquire after 
her condition. When the latter returned, he informed 
the emperor that Josephine was dangerously ill, and that 
he did not believe her recovery possible. 

He was right, and Alexander saw the empress no 
more ! Hortense and Eugene, her two children, held a 
sad watch at their mother’s bedside throughout the night 


DEATH OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 193 

The best physicians were called in, but these only con- 
firmed what the Kussian physician had said — the con- 
dition of the empress was hopeless. Her heart was 
broken ! With strong hands, she had held it together as 
long as her children’s welfare seemed to require. Now 
that Hortense’s future was also assured — now that she 
knew that her grandchildren would, at least, not be com- 
pelled to wander about the world as exiled beggars — now 
Josephine withdrew her hands from her heart, and suf- 
fered it to bleed to death. 

On the 29th of May, 1814, the Empress Josephine 
died, of an illness which had apparently lasted but two 
days. Hortense had not heard her mother’s death-sigh ; 
when she re-entered the room with Eugene, after her 
mother had received the sacrament from Abbe Bertrand 
— when she saw her mother, with outstretched arms, 
vainly endeavoring to speak to them — Hortense fainted 
away at her mother’s bedside, and the empress breathed 
her last sigh in Eugene’s arms. 

The intelligence of the death of the empress affected 
Paris profoundly. It seemed as though all the city had 
forgotten for a day that Napoleon was no longer the 
ruler of France, and that the Bourbons had reascended 
the throne of their fathers. All Paris mourned ; for the 
hearts of the French people had not forgotten this 
woman, who had so long been their benefactress, and of 
whom each could relate the most touching traits of good- 
ness, of generosity, and of gentleness. 

Josephine, now that she was dead, was once more en- 


194 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


throned as empress in the hearts of the French people, 
and thousands poured into Malmaison, to pay their last 
homage to their deceased empress. Even the Faubourg 
St. Germain mourned with the Parisians ; these haughty 
and insolent royalists, who had returned with the Bour- 
bons, may, perhaps, for a moment, have recalled the 
benefits wdiich the empress had shown them, when, as 
the mighty Empress of France, she employed the half of 
her allowance for the relief of the emigrants. They had 
returned without thinking of the thanks they owed their 
forgotten benefactress ; now that she was dead, they no 
longer withheld the tribute of their admiration. 

“ Alas ! ” exclaimed Madame Ducayla, the king’s 
friend ; “ alas ! how interesting a lady was this Jose- 
phine ! What tact, what goodness ! How well she knew 
how to do everything ! And she shows her tact and 
good taste to the last, in dying just at this moment ! ” 

Immediately after the death of the empress, Eugene 
had conducted the queen from the death-chamber, almost 
violently, and had taken her and her children to St. Leu. 
The body of the empress was interred in Malmaison, and 
followed to the grave by her two grandchildren only. 
Grief had made both of her children severely ill, and 
the little princes were followed, not by her relatives, but 
by the Russian General Yon Sacken, who represented 
the emperor, and by the equipages of all those kings and 
princes w T ho had helped to hurl the Bonapartes from 
their thrones and restore the Bourbons. 

The emperor passed his last night in France, before 


DEATH OF THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE. 195 

leaving for England, at St. Leu ; and, on taking leave of 
Eugene and Hortense, who, at the earnest solicitation of 
her brother, had left her room for the first time since her 
mother’s death, for the purpose of seeing the emperor, he 
assured them of his unchangeable friendship and attach- 
ment. As he knew that, among those whom he strongly 
suspected, Pozzo di Borgo,* the ambassador he left be- 
hind him in Paris, was an irreconcilable enemy of Napo- 
leon and his family, he had assigned to duty at the em- 
bassy as attache, a gentleman selected for this purpose 
by Louise de Cochelet — M. de Boutiakin — and it was 
through him that the emperor directed that the letters 
and wishes of the queen and of her faithful young lady 
friend should be received and answered. 

A few days later Eugene also left St. Leu and his 
sister Hortense, to return, with the King of Bavaria, to 
his new home in Germany. It was not until his depart- 
ure that Hortense felt to its full extent the gloomy lone- 
liness and dreary solitude by which she was surrounded. 
She had not wept over the downfall of all the grandeur 
and magnificence by which she had formerly been sur- 
rounded ; she had not complained when the whirlwind 
of fate hurled to the ground the crowns of all her rela- 
tions, but had bowed her head to the storm with resigna- 
tion, and smiled at the loss of her royal titles ; but now, 
as she stood in her parlor at St. Leu and saw none about 

* Upon receiving the intelligence of the death of the emperor at 
St. Helena, Pozzo di Borgo said : “ I did not kill him, but I threw the 
last handful of earth on his coffin, in order that he might never rise 
again.” 


196 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


lier but her two little boys and the few ladies who still 
remained faithful — now, Hortense wept. 

“ Alas ! ” she cried, bursting into tears, as she extended 
her hand to Louise de Cochelet, “alas ! my courage is at 
an end ! My mother is dead, my brother has left me, the 
Emperor Alexander will soon forget his promised protec- 
tion, and I alone must contend, with my two children, 
against all the annoyances and enmities to which the 
name I bear will subject me ! I fear I shall live to re- 
gret that I allowed myself to be persuaded to abandon 
my former plan. Will the love I bear my country 
recompense me for the torments which are in store 
for me ? 55 

The queen’s dark forebodings were to be only too 
fully realized. In the great and solemn hour of misfor- 
tune, Fate lifts to mortal vision the veil that conceals the 
future, and, like the Trojan prophetess, we see the im- 
pending evil, powerless to avert it. 


BOOK III. 


THE RESTORATION, \ 


CHAPTEK I. 

THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 

On the 12th of April, Count d’ Artois, whom Louis 
XVIII. had sent in advance, and invested with the dig- 
nity of a lieutenant-general of France, made his tri- 
umphal entry into Paris. At the gates of the city, he 
was received by the newly-formed provisional govern- 
ment, Talleyrand at its head ; and here it was that 
Count d’ Artois replied to the address of that gentleman 
in the following words : “Nothing is changed in France, 
except that from to-day there will be one Frenchman 
more in the land.” The people received him with cold 
curiosity, and the allied troops formed a double line for 
his passage to the Tuileries, at which the ladies of the 
Faubourg St. Germain, adorned with white lilies and 
white cockades, received him with glowing enthusiasm. 
Countess Ducayla, afterward the well-known friend of 
Louis XVIII., had been one of the most active instru- 
ments of the restoration, and she it was who had first un- 
folded again in France the banner of the Bourbons — the 


193 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


white flag. A few days before the entrance of the prince, 
she had gone, with a number of her royalist friends, into 
the streets, in order to excite the people to some enthu- 
siasm for the legitimate dynasty. But the people and 
the army had still preserved their old love for the em- 
peror, and the proclamation of Prince Scliwartzenberg, 
read by Bauvineux in the streets, was listened to in si- 
lence. True, the royalists cried, “ Vive le roi ! ” at the 
end of this reading, but the people remained indifferent 
and mute. 

This sombre silence alarmed Countess Dueayla ; it 
seemed to indicate a secret discontent with the new order 
of things. She felt that this sullen people must be in- 
flamed, and made to speak with energy and distinctness. 
To awaken enthusiasm by means of words and procla- 
mations had been attempted in vain ; now the countess 
determined to attempt to arouse them by another means 
— to astonish them by the display of a striking symbol — 
to show them the white flag of the Bourbons ! 

She gave her companion, Count de Montmorency, her 
handkerchief, that he might wave it aloft, fastening it 
to the end of his cane, in order that it should be more 
conspicuous. This handkerchief of Countess Dueayla, 
fastened to the cane of a Montmorency, was the first 
royalist banner that fluttered over Paris, after a banish- 
ment of twenty years. The Parisians looked at this ban- 
ner with a kind of reverence and shuddering wonder ; 
they did not greet it with applause ; they still remained 
silent, but they nevertheless followed the procession of 


THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 


199 


royalists, who marched to the boulevards, shouting, “ Vive 
le roi ! ” They took no part in their joyful demonstration, 
but neither did they attempt to prevent it. 

This demonstration of the royalists, and particularly 
of the royalist ladies, transcended the bounds of pro- 
priety, and of their own dignity. In their fanaticism 
for the legitimate dynasty, they gave the allies a recep- 
tion, which almost assumed the character of a declaration 
of love, on the part of the fair ladies of the Faubourg St. 
Germain, for all the soldiers and officers of the allied 
army. In a strange confusion of ideas, these warriors, 
who had certainly entered France as enemies, seemed to 
these fair ones to be a part of the beloved Bourbons ; 
and they loved them with almost the same love they lav- 
ished upon the royal family itself. During several days 
they were, in their hearts, the daughters of all countries 
except their own ! 

Louis XVIII. was himself much displeased with this 
enthusiasm of the ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain, 
and openly avowed to Countess Ducayla his dissatisfaction 
with the ridiculous and contemptible behavior of these 
ladies at that time. He was even of the opinion that it 
was calculated to injure his cause, as the nation had then 
not yet pronounced in his favor. 

“ They should,” said he, “have received the allies with 
a dignified reserve, without frivolous demonstrations, and 
without this inconsiderate devotion. Such a demeanor 
would have inspired them with respect for the nation, 
whereas they now leave Paris with the conviction that 


200 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


we are still — as we were fifty years ago — the most giddy 
and frivolous people of Europe. You particularly, ladies 
— you have compromised yourselves in an incomprehen- 
sible manner. The allies seemed to you so lovable en 
masse , that you gave yourselves the appearance of also 
loving them en detail ; and this has occasioned reports 
concerning you which do little honor to French ladies ! ” 

“ But, mon JDieu ! ” replied Countess Ducayla to her 
royal friend, “we wished to show them a well-earned 
gratitude for the benefit they conferred in restoring to us 
your majesty ; we wished to offer them freely what we, 
tired of resistance, were at last compelled to accord to 
the tyrants of the republic and the sabre-heroes of the 
empire ! None of us can regret what we have done for 
our good friends the allies ! ” 

Nevertheless, that which the ladies “had done for 
their good friends the allies ” was the occasion of many 
annoying family scenes, and the husbands who did not 
fully participate in the enthusiasm of their wives were 
of the opinion that they had good cause to complain of 
their inordinate zeal. 

Count G , among others, had married a young 

and beautiful lady a few days before the restoration. 
She, in her youthful innocence, was entirely indifferent 
to political matters ; but her step-father, her step-mother, 

and her husband, Count G , were royalists of the first 

wafer. 

On the day of the entrance of the allies into Paris, 
step-father, step-mother, and husband, in common with 


THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 201 

all good legitimists, hurried forward to welcome “ their 
good friends,” and each of them returned to their dwell- 
ing with a stranger — the husband with an Englishman, 
the step-mother with a Prussian, and the step-father with 
an Austrian. The three endeavored to outdo each other 
in the attentions which they showered upon the guests 
they had the good fortune to possess. The little count- 
ess alone remained indifferent, in the midst of the joy 
of her family. They reproached her with having too 
little attachment for the good cause, and exhorted her to 
do everything in her power to entertain the gallant men 
who had restored to France her king. 

The husband requested the Englishman to instruct 
the young countess in riding ; the marquise begged the 
Prussian to escort her daughter to the ball, and teach her 
the German waltz ; and, finally, the marquis, who had 
discovered a fine taste for paintings in the Austrian, ap- 
pealed to this gentleman to conduct the young wife 
through the picture-galleries. 

In short, every opportunity was given the young 
countess to commit a folly, or rather three follies, for 
she did not like to give the preference to any one of the 
three strangers. She was young, and inexperienced in 
matters of this kind. Her triple intrigue was, therefore, 
soon discovered, and betrayed to her family ; and now 
husband, step-father, and step-mother, were exasperated. 
This exceeded even the demands of their royalism ; and 
they showered reproaches on the head of the young wife. 

“ It is not my fault ! ” cried she, sobbing. “ I only 


202 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


did what you commanded. You ordered me to do ever}^ 
thing in my power to entertain these gentlemen, and I 
could therefore refuse them nothing.” 

But there were also cases in which the advances of 
the enthusiastic ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain were 
repelled. Even the high-born and haughty Marquise 

M was to experience this mortification. She stepped 

before the sullen, sombre veterans of the Old Guard of 
the empire, who had just allowed Count d’ Artois to pass 
before their ranks in dead silence. She ardently ap- 
pealed to their love for the dynasty of their fathers, and, 
in her enthusiasm for royalism, went so far as to offer her- 
self as a reward to him who should first cry “ Vive le 
roi ! ” But the faithful soldiers of the emperor stood 
unmoved by this generous offer, and the silence remained 
unbroken by the lowest cry ! 

The princes who stood at the head of the allied 
armies were, of course, the objects of the most ardent 
enthusiasm of the royalist ladies ; but it was, above all, 
with them that they found the least encouragement. 
The Emperor of Austria was too much occupied with 
the future of his daughter and grandson, and the King 
of Prussia was too grave and severe, to find any pleas- 
ure in the coquetries of women. The young Emperor 
Alexander of Russia, therefore, became the chief object 
of their enthusiasm and love. But their enthusiasm also 
m€ft with a poor recompense in this quarter. Almost 
distrustfully, the czar held himself aloof from the ladies 
of the Faubourg St. Germain ; and yet it was they who 


THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 


203 


had decided the fate of France with him, and induced 
him to give his vote for the Bourbons ; for until then it 
had remained undetermined whom the allies should call 
to the throne of France. 

In his inmost heart, the Emperor of Russia desired 
to see the universally-beloved Viceroy of Italy, Eugene 
Beauharnais, elevated to the vacant throne. The letter 
with which Eugene replied to the proposition of the 
allies, tendering him the ducal crown of Genoa, had won 
for Josephine’s son the love and esteem of the czar for 
all time. Alexander had himself written to Eugene, and 
proffered him, in the name of the allies, a duchy of 
Genoa, if he would desert Napoleon, and take sides with 
the allies. Eugene Beauharnais had replied to him in 
the following letter : 

“ Sire,' — I have received your majesty’s propositions. 
They are undoubtedly very favorable, but they are pow- 
erless to change my resolution. I must have known how 
to express my thoughts but poorly when I had the honor 
of seeing you, if your majesty can believe that I could 
sully my honor for any, even the highest, reward. 
Neither the prospect of possessing the crown of the 
duchy of Genoa, nor that of the kingdom of Italy, can 
induce me to become a traitor. The example of the 
King of Naples cannot mislead me; I. will rather be a 
plain soldier than a traitorous prince. 

“ The emperor, you say, has done me injustice ; I 

have forgotten it ; I only remember his benefits. I owe 
14 


204 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


all to him — my rank, my titles, and my fortune, and I 
owe to him that which I prefer to all else — that which 
your indulgence calls my renown. I shall, therefore, 
serve him as long as I live ; my person is his, as is my 
heart. May my sword break in my hands, if it could 
ever turn against the emperor, or against France! I 
trust that my well-grounded refusal will at least secure 
to me the respect of your imperial majesty. I am, etc.” 

The Emperor of Austria, on the other hand, ardently 
desired to secure the throne of France to his grandson, 
the King of Rome, under the regency of the Empress 
Marie Louise ; but he did not venture to make this de- 
mand openly and without reservation of his allies, whose 
action he had promised to approve and ratify. The 
appeals of the Duke of Cadore, who had been sent to 
her father by Marie Louise from Blois, urging the em- 
peror to look after her interests, and to demand of the 
allies that they should assure the crown to herself and 
son, were, therefore, fruitless. 

The emperor assured his daughter’s ambassador that 
he had reason to hope for the best for her, but that he 
was powerless to insist on any action in her behalf. 

“ I love my daughter,” said the good emperor, “ and 
I love my son-in-law, and I am ready to shed my heart’s 
blood for them.” 

“ Majesty,” said the duke, interrupting him, “ no such 
sacrifice is required at your hands.” 

“ I am ready to shed my blood for them,” continued 


THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 205 

the emperor, “ to sacrifice my life for them, and I repeat 
it, I have promised the allies to do nothing except in con- 
junction with them, and to consent to all they determine. 
Moreover, my minister, Count Metternich, is at this mo- 
ment with them, and I shall ratify everything which 
he has signed.” * 

But the emperor still hoped that that which Metter- 
nich should sign for him, would be the declaration that 
the little King of Rome was to be the King of France. 

But the zeal of the royalists was destined to anni- 
hilate this hope. 

The Emperor of Russia had now taken up his resi- 
dence in Talleyrand’s house. He had yielded to the en- 
treaties of the shrewd French diplomat, who well knew 
how much easier it would be to bend the will of the 
Agamemnon of the holy alliance f to his wishes, when 
he should have him in hand, as it were, day and night. 
In offering the emperor his hospitality, it was Talley- 
rand’s intention to make him his prisoner, body and soul, 
and to use him to his own advantage. 

It was therefore to Talleyrand that Countess Ducayla 
hastened to concert measures with the Bonapartist of 
yesterday, who had transformed himself into the zealous 
legitimist of to-day. 

Talleyrand undertook to secure the countess an au- 
dience with the Russian emperor, and he succeeded. 

While conducting the beautiful countess to the czar’s 
cabinet, Talleyrand whispered in her ear : “ Imitate 

* Bourrienne, vol. x., p. 129. f Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite. 


206 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Madame de Lemalle — endeavor to make a great stroke. 
The emperor is gallant, and what he denies to diplomacy, 
he may, perhaps, accord to the ladies.” 

He left her at the door, and the countess entered the 
emperor’s cabinet alone. She no sooner saw him, than 
she sank on her knees, and stretched out her arms. 

With a knightly courtesy, the emperor immediately 
hastened forward to assist her to rise. 

“ What are you doing ? ” asked he, almost in alarm. 
“ A noble lady never has occasion to bend the knee to a 
cavalier.” 

“ Sire,” exclaimed the countess, “ I kneel before you, 
because it is my purpose to implore of your majesty the 
happiness which you alone can restore to us ; it will be 
a double pleasure to possess Louis XVIII. once more, 
when Alexander I. shall have given him to us ! ” 

“ Is it then true that the French people are still de- 
voted to the Bourbon family ? ” 

“ Yes, sire, they are our only hope ; on them we be- 
stow our whole love ! ” 

“ Ah, that is excellent,” cried Alexander ; “ are all 
French ladies filled with the same enthusiasm as your- 
self, madame ? ” 

“.Well, if this is the case, it will be France that re- 
calls Louis XVIII., and it will not be necessary for us to 
conduct him back. Let the legislative bodies declare 
their will, and it shall be done.” * 

And of all women, Countess Ducayla was the one to 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 179. 


THE RETURN OF THE BOURBONS. 207 

bring the legislative bodies to the desired declaration. 
She hastened to communicate the hopes with which the 
emperor had inspired her to all Paris ; on the evening 
after her interview with the emperor, she gave a grand 
soiree , to which she invited the most beautiful ladies of f 
her party, and a number of senators. 

“ I desired by this means,” says she in her memoirs, 

“ to entrap the gentlemen into making a vow. How 
simple-minded I was ! Did I not know that the major- 
ity of them had already made and broken a dozen 
vows ? ” 

On the following day the senate assembled, and 
elected a provisional government, consisting of Talley- 
rand, the Duke of Dalberg, the Marquis of Jancourt, 
Count BournonviHe, and the Abbe Montesquieu. The 
senate and the new provisional government thereupon 
declared Napoleon deposed from the throne, and recalled 
Louis XVIII. But while the senate thus publicly and 
solemnly proclaimed its legitimist sentiments in the name 
of the French people, it at the same time testified to 
its own unworthiness and selfishness. In the treaty 
made by the senate with its recalled king, it was pro- 
vided in a separate clause, “ that the salary which they 
had hitherto received, should be continued to them for 
life.” While recalling Louis XVIII., these senators took 
care to pay themselves for their trouble, and to secure 
their own future. 


208 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE BOURBONS AND THE BONAPARTES. 

The allies hastened to consider the declaration of the 
senate and provisional government as the declaration of 
the people, and recalled to the throne of his fathers Louis 
XYIII., who, as Count de Lille, had so long languished 
in exile at Hartwell. 

The Emperor of Austria kept his word ; he made no 
resistance to the decrees of his allies, and allowed his 
grandson, the King of Rome, to be robbed of his in- 
heritance, and the imperial crown to fall from his daugh- 
ter’s brow. The Emperor Francis was, however, as 
much astonished at this result as Marie Louise, for, until 
their entrance into Paris, the allies had flattered the 
Austrian emperor with the hope that the crown of 
France would be secured to his daughter and grandson. 
The emperor’s astonishment at this turn of affairs was 
made the subject of a caricature, which, on the day of 
the entrance of Louis XYIII., was affixed to the same 
walls on which Chateaubriand’s enthusiastic brochure 
concerning the Bourbons was posted. In this carica- 
ture, of which thousands of copies were sown broadcast 
throughout Paris, the Emperor of Austria was to be seen 
sitting in an elegant open carriage ; the Emperor Alex- 
ander sat on the coachman’s box, the Regent of England 
as postilion on the lead-horse, and the King of Prussia 


THE BOURBONS AND THE BONAPARTES. 209 

stood up behind as a lackey. Napoleon ran along on 
foot at the side of the carriage, holding fast to it, and 
crying out to the Emperor of Austria, “Father-in-law, 
they have thrown me out ” — “ And taken me in ,” was 
the reply of Francis I. 

The exultation of the ladies of the Faubourg St. 
Germain was great, now that their king was at last re- 
stored to them, and they eagerly embraced every means 
of showing their gratitude to the Emperor of Russia. 
But Alexander remained entirely unsusceptible to their 
homage ; he even went so far as to avoid attending the 
entertainments given by the new king at the Tuileries, 
and society was shocked at seeing the emperor openly 
dispiaying his sympathy for the family of the Emperor 
Napoleon, and repairing to Malmaison, instead of ap- 
pearing at the Tuileries. 

Count Nesselrode at last conjured his friend Louise 
de Cochelet to inform the czar of the feeling of dismay 
that pervaded the Faubourg St. Germain, when he should 
come to Queen Hortense’s maid-of-honor, as he was in 
the habit of doing from time to time, for the purpose of 
discussing the queen’s interests with her. 

“ Sire,” said she to the czar, “ the Faubourg St. Ger- 
main regards your majesty’s zeal in the queen’s behalf 
with great jealousy. It has even caused Count Nessel- 
rode much concern. ‘ Our emperor,’ said he to me, re- 
cently, ‘ goes to Malmaison much too often ; the high cir- 
cles of society, and the diplomatic body, are already in 
dismay about it ; it is feared that he is there subjected to 


210 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

influences to which policy requires he should not be ex- 
posed.’ ” 

“ This is characteristic of my Nesselrode,” replied the 
emperor, laughing, “ he is so easily disquieted. What do 
I care for the Faubourg St. Germain? It speaks ill 
enough for these ladies that they have not made a con- 
quest of me ! I prefer the noble qualities of the soul to 
all outward appearances ; and I find united in the Em- 
press Josephine, in the Queen of Holland, and in Prince 
Eugene, all that is admirable and lovable. I am better 
pleased to be here with you in quiet, confidential inter- 
course, than with those who really demean themselves as 
though they were crazed, and who, instead of enjoying 
the triumph we have prepared for them, are only intent 
on destroying their enemies, and have commenced with 
those who formerly accorded them such generous protec- 
tion ; they really weary one with their extravagances. 

“ Frenchwomen are coquettish,” said the emperor in 
the course of the conversation ; “ I came here in great 
fear of them, for I knew how' far their amiability could 
extend ; but their heart is undoubtedly no longer their 
own. I am therefore on my guard against being deceived 
by it, and I fancy these ladies love to please so well, that 
they are even angry with those who respond to the atten- 
tions which are so lavishly showered on them, with con- 
ventional politeness only.” 

Louise de Cochelet undertook to defend the French 
ladies against the emperor’s attacks. She told him he 
should not judge of them by the manner in which they 


THE BOURBONS AND THE BONAPARTES. 211 

had conducted themselves toward him, as it was but 
natural that the ladies should be inspired with enthusiasm 
for a young emperor who appeared to them in so favor- 
able a light, and that they must necessarily, even without 
being coquettish, ardently desire to be noticed by him. 

“But,” said the emperor, with his soft, sad smile, 
“ have these ladies only been waiting for me in order to 
feel their heart palpitate ? I seek mind and entertain- 
ment, but I fly from all those who display a desire to exer- 
cise a control over my heart ; in this I see nothing but 
self-love, and I hold myself aloof from such contact.” 

While the royalists and the ladies of the Faubourg 
St. Germain were lavishing attentions upon the allies, and 
assuring the returned king of the boundless delight of 
his people, this people was already beginning to grumble. 
The allies had now completed their task, they had re- 
stored to France its legitimate king, and they now put 
the finishing-touch to their work by providing in the 
treaty, that France should be narrowed down to the 
boundaries it had had before the revolution. 

France was compelled to conform to the will of its 
vanquishers. From the weakness of the legitimists they 
now snatched that which they had been compelled to ac- 
cord to the strength of the empire. 

All of those fortified places, that had been bought 
with so much French blood, and that were still held by 
Frenchmen, were to be given up, and the great, extended 
France was to shrink back into the France it had been 
thirty years before ! It was this that made the people 


212 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


murmur. The Frenchmen who had left Napoleon be- 
cause they had grown weary of endless wars, were, never- 
theless, proud of the conquests they had made under their 
emperor. The surrender of these conquests wounded the 
national pride, and they were angry with their king for 
being so ready to put this shame upon France — for hold- 
ing the crown of France in higher estimation than the 
honor of France ! 

It must be conceded, however, that Louis XVIII. had 
most bitterly felt the disgrace that attached to him in this 
re-establishment of France within its ancient boundaries, 
and he had endeavored to protest in every w r ay against 
this demand of the allies. But his representative had 
been made to understand that if Louis XVIII. could not 
content himself with the France the allies were prepared 
to give him, he was at liberty to relinquish it to Marie 
Louise. The king was, therefore, compelled to yield to 
necessity ; but he did so with bitter mortification, and 
while his courtiers were giving free rein to their enthusi- 
asm for the allies, he was heard to whisper, u J\ T os chers 
amis les ennemis ! ” * 

Thus embittered against the allies, it was only with 
great reluctance, and after a long and bitter struggle, that 
Louis XVIII. consented to the demands made by the 
allies in behalf of the family of Napoleon. But the Em- 
peror Alexander kept his word ; he defended the rights 
of the Queen of Holland and her children against the ill- 
will of the Bourbons, the dislike of the royalists, and the 


* “ Our dear friends the enemies ! 


THE BOURBONS AND THE BONAPARTES. 213 

disinclination of the allies, alike. The family of the em- 
peror owed it to him and to his firmness alone that the 
article of the treaty of the 11th of April, in which Louis 
XVIII. agreed “ that the titles and dignities of all the 
members of the family of the Emperor Xapoleon should 
be recognized, and that they should not be deprived of 
them,” remained something more than a mere phrase. 

It was only after repeated efforts that the emperor at 
last succeeded in obtaining for Hortense, from Louis 
XVIII., an estate and a title, that secured her position. 
King Louis finally yielded to his urgent solicitations, and 
conferred upon Hortense the title of Duchess of St. Leu, 
and made her estate, St. Leu, a duchy. 

But this was done with the greatest reluctance, and 
only under the pressure of the king’s obligations to the 
allies, who had given him his throne ; and these obliga- 
tions the Bourbons would have forgotten as wfillingly as 
the whole period of the revolution and of the empire. 

For the Bourbons seemed but to have awakened from 
a long sleep, and were not a little surprised to find that 
the w’orld had progressed in the meanwhile. 

According to their ideas, every thing must have re- 
mained standing at the point where they had left it 
twenty years before ; and they were at least determined 
to ignore all that had happened in the interval. King 
Louis therefore signed his first act as in “ the nineteenth ” 
year of his reign, and endeavored in all things to keep 
up a semblance of the continuation of his reign since 
the year 1789. Hence, the letters-patent in which King 


214 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Louis appointed Hortense Duchess of St. Leu were 
drawn up in a manner offensive to the queen, for they 
contained the following : “ The king appoints Made- 
moiselle Hortense de Beauharnais Duchess of St. Leu.” 

The queen refused to accept this title, under the cir- 
cumstances, and rejected the letters-patent. It was not 
until the czar had angrily demanded it, that M. de Blacas, 
the king’s premier, consented to draw up the letters- 
patent in a different style. They read : “ The king ap- 
points Hortense Eugenie, included in the treaty of the 
11th of April, Duchess of St. Leu.” This was, to be sure, 
merely a negative and disguised recognition of the former 
rank of the queen ; but it was, at least no longer a degra- 
dation to accept it. 

The Viceroy of Italy, the noble Eugene — who was 
universally beloved, and who had come to Paris, at the 
express wish of the czar, to secure his future — occasioned 
the Bourbons quite as much annoyance and perplexity. 

The king could not refuse to recognize the brave 
hero of the empire and the son-in-law of the King of 
Bavaria, who was one of the allies ; and, as Eugene de- 
sired an audience of the king, it was accorded him at 
once. 

But how was he to be received? With what title 
was Napoleon’s step-son, the Viceroy of Italy, to be ad- 
dressed? It would have been altogether too ridiculous 
to repeat the absurdity contained in Hortense’s letters- 
patent, and call Eugene “ Viscount de Beauharnais ; ” but 
to accord him the royal title would have compromised the 


THE BOURBONS AND THE BONAPARTES. 215 

dignity of the legitimate dynasty. A brilliant solution 
of this difficult question suggested itself to King Louis. 
When the Duke d’Aumont conducted Prince Eugene to 
the royal presence, the king advanced, with a cordial 
smile, and saluted him with the w r ords, “ M. Marshal of 
France, I am happy to see you.” 

Eugene, who was on the point of making his saluta- 
tion, remained silent, and looked over his shoulder to see 
whom the king was speaking with. Louis XVIII. smiled, 
and continued : “ You, my dear sir, are a marshal of 
France. I appoint you to this dignity.” 

“ Sire,” said Eugene, bowing profoundly, “ I am 
much obliged to your majesty for your kind intentions, 
but the misfortune of the rank to which destiny has called 
me will not allow me to accept the high title with which 
you honor me. I thank you very much, but I must de- 
cline it.” * 

The king’s stratagem had thus come to grief, and 
Eugene left the royal presence with flying colors. He 
was not under the necessity of accepting benefits from 
the King of France, for his step-father, the King of Ba- 
varia, made Eugene a prince of the royal house of Ba- 
varia, and created for him the duchy of Leuclitenberg. 
Hither Eugene retired, and lived there, surrounded by 
his wife and children, in peace and tranquillity, until 
death tore him from the arms of his sorrowing family, in 
the year 1824. 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 267. 


216 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER III. 

MADAME DE STAEL. 

The restoration, that had overthrown so many of the 
great, and that was destined to restore to the light so 
many names that had lain buried in obscurity, now 
brought back to Paris a person who had been banished 
by Napoleon, and who had been adding new lustre and 
renown to her name in a foreign land. This personage 
was Madame de Stael, the daughter of Necker, the re- 
nowned poetess of “ Corinne ” and “ Delphine.” 

It had been a long and bitter struggle between 
Madame de Stael and the mighty Emperor of the 
French ; and Madame de Stael, with her genius and her 
impassioned eloquence, and adorned with the laurel- 
w'reath of her exile, had perhaps done Napoleon more 
harm than a whole army of his enemies. Intense hatred 
existed on both sides, and yet it had depended on Napo- 
leon alone to transform this hatred into love. For 
Madame de Stael had been disposed to lavish the whole 
impassioned enthusiasm of her heart upon the young 
hero of Marengo and Areola — quite disposed to become 
the Egeria of this Numa Pompilius. In the warm im- 
pulse of her stormy imagination, Madame de Stael, in 
reference to Bonaparte, had even, in a slight measure, 
been regardless of her position as a lady, and had only 
remembered that she was a poetess, and that, as such, it 
became her well to celebrate the hero, and to bestow on 


MADAME DE STAfiL. 


217 

the luminous constellation that was rising over France 
the glowing dithyrambic of her greetings. 

Madame de Stael had, therefore, not waited for Na- 
poleon to seek her, but had made the first advances, and 
sought him. 

To the returning victor of Italy she wrote letters 
filled with impassioned enthusiasm ; but these letters 
afforded the youthful general but little pleasure. In the 
midst of the din of battle and the grand schemes with 
which he was continually engaged, Bonaparte found but 
little time to occupy himself with the poetical works of 
Madame de Stael. He knew of her nothing more than 
that she was the daughter of the minister Necker, and that 
was no recommendation in Napoleon’s eyes, for he felt 
little respect for Necker’s genius, and even went so far 
as to call him the instigator of the great revolution. It 
was, therefore, with astonishment that the young general 
received the enthusiastic letter of the poetess ; and, while 
showing it to some of his intimate friends, he said, with 
a shrug of his shoulders, “ Do you understand these ex- 
travagances ? This woman is foolish ! ” 

But Madame de Stael did not allow herself to be dis- 
mayed by Bonaparte’s coldness and silence — she con- 
tinued to write new and more glowing letters. 

In one of these letters she went so far in her incon- 
siderate enthusiasm as to say, that it was a great error 
in human institutions that the gentle and quiet Jose- 
phine had united her faith with his ; that she, Madame 
de Stael, and Bonaparte, were born for each other, and 


218 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


that Nature seemed to have created a soul of fire like 
hers, in order that it might worship a hero such as he 
was. 

Bonaparte crushed the letter in his hands, and ex- 
claimed, as he threw it in the fire : “ That a blue-stock- 
ing, a manufactress of sentiment, should dare to compare 
herself to Josephine ! I shall not answer these letters ! ” 

He did not answer them, but Madame de Stael did 
not, or rather would not, understand his silence. Little 
disposed to give up a resolution once formed, and to see 
her plans miscarry, Madame de Stael was now also de- 
termined to have her way, and to approach Bonaparte 
despite his resistance. 

And she did have her way ; she succeeded in over- 
coming all obstacles, and the interview, so long wished 
for by her, and so long avoided by him, at last took 
place. Madame de Stael was introduced at the Tuileries, 
and received by Bonaparte and his wife. The personal 
appearance of this intellectual woman was, however, but 
little calculated to overcome Bonaparte’s prejudice. The 
costume of Madame de Stael was on this occasion, as it 
always was, fantastic, and utterly devoid of taste, and 
Napoleon loved to see women simply but elegantly and 
tastefully attired. In this interview with Napoleon, 
Madame de Stael gave free scope to her wit ; but instead 
of dazzling him, as she had hoped to do, she only suc- 
ceeded in depressing him. 

It was while in this frame of mind, and when Ma- 
dame de Stael, in her ardor, had endeavored almost to 


MADAME DE STA&L. 


219 


force him to pay her a compliment, that Napoleon re- 
sponded to her at least somewhat indiscreet question : 
“ Who is in your eyes the greatest woman ? ” with the 
sarcastic reply, “ She who bears the most children to the 
state.” 

Madame de Stael had come with a heart full of en- 
thusiasm ; in her address to Napoleon, she had called 
him a “ god descended to earth ; ” she had come an en- 
thusiastic poetess; she departed an offended woman. 
Her wounded vanity never forgave the answer which 
seemed to make her ridiculous. She avenged herself, in 
her drawing-room, by the biting bon mots which she 
hurled at Napoleon and his family, and which were of 
course faithfully repeated to the first consul. 

But the weapons which this intellectual woman now 
wielded against the hero who had scorned her, wounded 
him more severely than weapons of steel or iron. In 
the use of these weapons, Madame de Stael was his supe- 
rior, and the consciousness of this embittered Bonaparte 
all the more against the lady, who dared prick the heel 
of Achilles with the needle of her wit, and strike at the 
very point where he was most sensitive. 

A long and severe conflict now began between these 
two greatest geniuses of that period, a struggle that was 
carried on by both with equal bitterness. But Napoleon 
had outward power on his side, and could punish the 
enmity of his witty opponent, as a ruler. 

He banished Madame de Stael from Paris, and soon 

afterward even from France. She who in Paris had 
15 


220 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


been so ready to sing the praises of her “ god descended 
from heaven,” now went into exile his enemy and a roy- 
alist, to engage, with all her eloquence and genius, in 
making proselytes for the exiled Bourbons, and to raise 
in the minds of men an invisible but none the less formi- 
dable army against her enemy the great Napoleon. 

Madame de Stael soon gave still greater weight to 
the flaming eruptions of her hatred of Napoleon, by her 
own increasing renown and greatness ; and the poetess 
of Corinne and Delphine soon became as redoubtable an 
opponent of Napoleon as England, Russia, or Austria, 
could be. 

But in the midst of the triumphs she was celebrating 
in her exile, Madame de Stael soon began to long 
ardently to return to France, which she loved all the 
more for having been compelled to leave it. She there- 
fore used all the influence she possessed in Paris, to ob- 
tain from Napoleon permission to return to her home, 
but the emperor remained inexorable, even after having 
read Delphine. 

“ I love,” said he, “ women who make men of them- 
selves just as little as I love effeminate men. There is 
an appropriate role for every one in the yvorld. Of 
what use is this vagabondizing of fantasy ? What does 
it accomplish ? Nothing ! All this is nothing but de- 
rangement of mind and feeling. I dislike women who 
throw themselves in my arms, and for this reason, if for 
no other, I dislike this woman, who is certainly one of 
that number.” 


MADAME DE STALL. 


221 


Madame de Stael’s petitions to be permitted to return 
to Paris were therefore rejected, but she was as little 
disposed to abandon her purpose now as she was at the 
time she sought to gain Bonaparte’s good-will. She 
continued to make attempts to achieve her aim, for it 
was not only her country that she wished to reconquer, 
but also a million francs which she wished to have paid 
to her out of the French treasury. 

Her father, Minister Necker, had loaned his suffering 
country a million francs, at a time of financial distress 
and famine, to buy bread for the starving people, and 
Louis XYI. had guaranteed, in writing, that this “ na- 
tional debt of France ” should be returned. 

But the revolution that shattered the throne of the 
unfortunate king, also buried beneath the ruins of the 
olden time the promises and oaths that had been written 
on parchment and paper. 

Madame de Stael now demanded that the emperor 
should fulfil the promises of the overthrown king, and 
that the heir of the throne of the Bourbons should as- 
sume the obligations into which a Bourbon had entered 
with her father. 

She had once called Hapoleon a god descended from 
heaven; and she even now wished that he might still 
prove a god for her, namely, the god Pluto, who should 
pour out a million upon her from his horn of plenty. 

As she could not go to France herself, she sent her 
son to plead with the emperor, for herself and her chil- 
dren. 


222 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Well knowing, however, how difficult it would be, even 
for her son to secure an audience of the emperor, she ad- 
dressed herself to Queen Hortense in eloquent letters im- 
ploring her to exert her influence in her son’s behalf. 

Hortense, ever full of pity for misfortune, felt the 
warmest sympathy and admiration for the genius of the 
great poetess, and interceded for Madame de Stael with 
great courage and eloquence. She alone ventured, re- 
gardless of Napoleon’s frowns and displeasure, to plead 
the cause of the poor exile again and again, and to solicit 
her recall to France, as a simple act of justice ; she even 
went so far in her generosity as to extend the hospitalities 
of her drawing-rooms to the poetess’s son, who was avoid- 
ed and fled from by every one else. 

Hortense’s soft entreaties and representations were 
at last successful in soothing the emperor’s anger. He 
allowed Madame de Stael to return to France, on the con- 
dition that she should never come to Paris or its vicinity ; 
he then also accorded Madame de Stael’s son the long- 
sought favor of an audience. 

This interview of Napoleon with Madame de Stael’s 
son is as remarkable as it is original. On this occasion, 
Napoleon openly expressed his dislike and even his hatred 
as well of Madame de Stael as of her father, although he 
listened with generous composure to the warm defence of 
the son and grandson. 

Young Stael told the emperor of his mother’s longing 
to return to her home, and touchingly portrayed the sad- 
ness and unhappiness of her exile. 


MADAME DE STAfiL. 


223 


“ Ah, bah ! ” exclaimed the emperor, “ your mother 
is in a state of exaltation. I do not say that she is a bad 
woman. She has wit, and much intellect, perhaps too 
much, but hers is an inconsiderate, an insubordinate spirit. 
She has grown up in the chaos of a falling monarchy, and 
of a revolution, and she has amalgamized the two in her 
mind. This is all a source of danger ; she would make 
proselytes, she must be watched ; she does not love me. 
The interests of those whom she might compromise, re- 
quire that I should not permit her to return to Paris. If 
I should allow her to do so, she would place me under 
the necessity of sending her to Bicetre, or of imprisoning 
her in the Temple, before six months elapsed ; that would 
be extremely disagreeable, for it would cause a sensation, 
and injure me in the public opinion. Inform your 
mother that my resolution is irrevocable. While I live, 
she shall not return to Paris.” 

It was in vain that young Stael assured him in his 
mother’s name, that she would avoid giving him the least 
occasion for displeasure, and that she would live in com- 
plete retirement if permitted to return to Paris. 

“ Ah, yes ! I know the value of fine promises ! ” ex- 
claimed the emperor. “ I know what the result would 
be, and I repeat it, it cannot be ! She would be the ral- 
ly in g-point of the whole Faubourg St. Germain. She 
live in retirement ! Visits would be made her, and she 
would return them ; she would commit a thousand indis- 
cretions, and say a thousand humorous things, to which 
she attaches no importance, but which annoy me. My 


224 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


government is no jest, I take every thing seriously ; I 
wish this to be understood, and you may proclaim it to 
the whole world ! ” 

Young Stael had, however, the courage to continue 
his entreaties ; he even went so far as to inquire in all 
humility for the grounds of the emperor’s ill-will against 
his mother. He said he had been assured that JSTecker’s 
last work was more particularly the cause of the emper- 
or’s displeasure, and that he believed Madame de Stael 
had assisted in writing it. This was, however, not so, 
and he could solemnly assure the emperor that his 
mother had taken no part in it whatever. Besides, 
Hecker had also done full justice to the emperor in this 
work. 

“ Justice, indeed ! He calls me the ‘ necessary man.’ 
The necessary man ! and yet, according to his book, the 
first step necessary to be taken, was to take off this ne- 
cessary man’s head ! Yes, I was necessary to repair all 
that your grandfather had destroyed ! It is he who over- 
threw the monarchy, and brought Louis XYI. to the 
scaffold ! ” 

“ Sire ! ” exclaimed the young man, deeply agitated, 
“ you are then not aware that my grandfather’s estates 
were confiscated because he defended the king ! ” 

<k A fine defence, indeed ! If I give a man poison, 
and then, when he lies in the death-struggle, give him an 
antidote, can you then maintain that I wished to save this 
man ? It was in this manner that M. Hecker defended 
Louis XYI. The confiscations of which you speak prove 


MADAME DE STA^L. 


225 


nothing. Robespierre’s property was also confiscated. 
Not even Robespierre, Marat, and Danton, have brought 
such misery upon France as Necker ; he it is who made 
the revolution. You did not see it, but I was present in 
those days of horror and public distress ; but I give you 
my word that they shall return no more while I live ! 
Your schemers write out their utopias, the simple-minded 
read these dreams, they are printed and believed in ; the 
common welfare is in everybody’s mouth, and soon there 
is no more bread for the people ; it revolts, and that is 
the usual result of all these fine theories ! Your grand- 
father is to blame for the orgies that brought France to 
desperation.” 

Then lowering his voice, from the excited, almost 
angry tone in which he had been speaking, to a milder 
one, the emperor approached the young man, who stood 
before him, pale, and visibly agitated. With that charm- 
ing air of friendly intimacy that no one knew so well how 
to assume as Napoleon, he gently pinched the tip of the 
young man’s ear, the emperor’s usual way of making 
peace with any one to whom he wished well, after a little 
difficulty. 

“ You are still young,” said he ; “ if you possessed my 
age and experience, you would judge of these matters dif- 
ferently. Your candor has not offended, but pleased me ; 
I like to see a son defend his mother’s cause ! Your 
mother has intrusted you with a very difficult commis- 
sion, and you have executed it with much spirit. It 
gives me pleasure to have conversed with you, for I love 


226 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the young when they are straightforward and not too 
‘ argumentative.’ But I can nevertheless give you no 
false hopes ! You will accomplish nothing ! If your 
mother were in prison, I should not hesitate to grant 
you her release. But she is in exile, and nothing can in- 
duce me to recall her.” 

“ But, sire, is one not quite as unhappy far from home 
and friends, as in prison ? ” 

“Ah, bah! those are romantic notions! You have 
heard that said about your mother. She is truly greatly 
to be pitied. With the exception of Paris, she has the 
whole of Europe for her prison ! ” 

“ But, sire, all her friends are in Paris ! ” 

“ With her intellect, she will be able to acquire new 
ones everywhere. Moreover, I cannot understand why 
she should desire to be in Paris. Why does she so long 
to place herself in the immediate reach of tyranny? 
You see I pronounce the decisive word ! I am really 
unable to comprehend it. Can she not go to Pome, Ber- 
lin, Vienna, Milan, or London ? Yes, London would be 
the right place ! There she can perpetrate libels when- 
ever she pleases. At all of these places I will leave her 
undisturbed with the greatest pleasure ; but Paris is my 
residence, and there I will tolerate those only who love 
me ! On this the world can depend. I know what would 
happen, if I should permit your mother to return to 
Paris. She would commit new follies ; she would cor- 
rupt those who surround me ; she would corrupt Garat, 
as she once corrupted the tribunal ; of course, she would 


MADAME DE STAfiL. 


227 

promise all things, but she would, nevertheless, not avoid 
engaging in politics.” 

“ Sire,” I can assure you that my mother does not 
occupy herself with politics at all ; she devotes herself 
exclusively to the society of her friends, and to litera- 
ture.” 

“ That is the right word, and I fully understand it. 
One talks politics while talking of literature, of morals, 
of the fine arts, and of every conceivable thing ! If your 
mother were in Paris, her latest bon mots and phrases 
would be recited to me daily ; perhaps they would be 
only invented ; but I tell you I will have nothing of the 
kind in the city in which I reside ! It would be best for 
her to go to London; advise her to do so. As far as 
your grandfather is concerned, I have certainly not said 
too much; M. Necker had no administrative ability. 
Once more, inform your mother that I shall never per- 
mit her to return to Paris.” 

“ But if sacred interests should require her presence 
here for a few days, your majesty would at least — ” 

“ What ? Sacred interests ? What does that mean ? ” 

“ Sire,” the presence of my mother will be necessary, 
in order to procure from your majesty’s government the 
return of a sacred debt.” 

“ Ah, bah ! sacred ! Are not all the debts of the state 
sacred ? ” 

“ Without doubt, sire ; but ours is accompanied by 
peculiar circumstances.” 

“ Peculiar circumstances ! ” exclaimed the emperor, 


228 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


rising to terminate the long interview, that began to 
weary him. “ What creditor of the state does not say 
the same of his debt ? Moreover, I know too little of 
your relations toward my government. This matter 
does not concern me, and I will not be mixed up in it. 
If the laws are for you, all will go well without my inter- 
ference ; but if it requires influence, I shall have nothing 
to do with it, for I should be rather against than for 
you ! ” 

“ Sire,” said young Stael, venturing to speak once 
more, as the emperor was on the point of leaving, “ sire, 
my brother and I were anxious to settle in France ; but 
how could we live in a land in which our mother would 
not be allowed to live with us everywhere ? ” 

Already standing on the threshold of the door, the 
emperor turned to him hastily. “ I have no desire what- 
ever to have you settle here,” said he ; “ on the contrary, 
I advise you not to do so. Go to England. There they 
have a jpencliant for Genevese, parlor-politicians, etc. ; 
therefore, go to England ; for I must say, I should be 
rather ill than well disposed toward you ! ” * 


* Bourrienne, vol. viii., p. 355. 


MADAME DE STALL’S RETURN TO PARIS. 229 


CHAPTER IY. 

MADAME DE STAEl’s RETURN TO PARIS. 

Madame de Stael returned to her cherished France 
with the restoration. She came back thirsting for new 
honor and renown, and determined, above all, to have her 
work republished in Germany, its publication having 
been once suppressed by the imperial police. She enter- 
tained the pleasing hope that the new court would forget 
that she was Necker’s daughter, receive her with open 
arms, and accord her the influence to which her active 
mind and genius entitled her. 

But she was laboring under an error, by which she 
was not destined to be long deceived. She was received 
at court with the cold politeness which is more terrible 
than insult. The king, while speaking of her with his 
friends, called Madame de Stael “ a Chateaubriand in 
petticoats.” The Duchess d’Angouleme seemed never to 
see the celebrated poetess, and never addressed a word 
to her ; the rest of the court met Madame de Stael armed 
to the teeth with all the hatred and prejudices of the 
olden time. 

It was also in vain that Madame de Stael endeavored 
to act an important part at the new court ; they refused 
to regard her as an authority or power, but treated her as 
a mere authoress ; her counsel was ridiculed, and they 
dared even to question the renown of M. Necker. 

“ I am unfortunate,” said Madame de Stael to Countess 


230 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Ducayla ; “ Napoleon hated me because he believed me 
to possess intellect ; these people repel me because I at 
least possess ordinary human understanding! I can cer- 
tainly get on very well without them ; but, as my pres- 
ence displeases them, I shall, at least, endeavor to get my 
money from them.” 

The “ sacred debt ” had not been paid under the em- 
pire, and it was now Madame de Stael’s intention to ob- 
tain from the king what the emperor had refused. 

She was well aware of the influence which Countess 
Ducayla exercised over Louis XYIII., and she now 
hastened to call on the beautiful countess — whose ac- 
quaintance she had made under peculiar circumstances, in 
a romantic love intrigue — in order to renew the friend- 
ship they had then vowed to each other. 

The countess had not forgotten this friendship, and 
she was now grateful for the service Madame de Stael 
had then shown her. She helped to secure the liquida- 
tion of the sacred debt, and, upon the order of King 
Louis, the million was paid over to Madame de Stael. 
“ But,” says the countess, in her memoirs, “ I believe the 
recovery of this million cost Madame de Stael four hun- 
dred thousand francs, besides a ^et of jewelry that was 
worth at least one hundred thousand.” 

The countess’s' purse and the jewelry case, however, 
doubtlessly bore evidence that she might as well have 
said “ I know ” as “ I believe.” 

Besides the four hundred thousand francs and the 
jewelry, Madame de Stael also gave the countess a piece 


MADAME DE STALL’S RETURN TO PARIS. 231 

of advice. “ Make tlie most of tlie favor you now en- 
joy,” said she to her ; “ but do so quickly, for, as mat- 
ters are now conducted, I fear that the restoration will 
soon have to be restored.” 

“ What do you mean by that \ ” asked the countess, 
smiling. 

“ I mean that, with the exception of the king, who 
perhaps does not say all he thinks, the others are still 
doing precisely as they always have done, and Heaven 
knows to what extremities their folly is destined to bring 
them ! They mock at the old soldiers and assist the young 
priests, and this is the best means of ruining France.” 

Countess Ducayla considered this prediction of her 
intellectual friend as a mere cloud with which discon- 
tent and disappointed ambition had obscured the other- 
wise clear vision of Madame de Stael, and ridiculed the 
idea, little dreaming how soon her words were to be 
fulfilled. 

Madame de Stael consoled herself for her cold recep- 
tion at court, by receiving the best society of Paris in 
her parlors, and entertaining them with biting T >on mots 
and witt y persiflage, at the expense of the grand notabili- 
ties, who had suddenly arisen with their imposing genea- 
logical trees out of the ruins and oblivion of the past. 

Madame de Stael now also remembered the kindness 
Queen Hortense had shown her during her exile ; and 
not to her only, but also to her friend, Madame Reca- 
mier, who had also been exiled by Napoleon, not, how- 
ever, as his enemies said, “ because she was Madame de 


232 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Stael’s friend,” but simply because she patronized and 
belonged to the so-called “ little church.” The “ little 
church ” was an organization born of the spirit of oppo- 
sition of the Faubourg St. Germain, and a portion of 
the Catholic clergy, and was one of those things apper- 
taining to the internal relations of France that were most 
annoying and disagreeable to the emperor. 

Queen Hortense had espoused the cause of Madame 
de Stael and of Madame Recamier with generous 
warmth. She had eloquently interceded for the recall 
of both from their exile ; and, now that the course of 
events had restored them to their home, both ladies 
came to the queen to thank her for her kindness and 
generosity. 

Louise de Cochelet has described this visit of Madame 
de Stael so wittily, with so much naivete , and with such 
peculiar local coloring, that we cannot refrain from lay- 
ing a literal translation of the same before the reader. 


CHAPTER Y. 

MADAME DE STAEl’s VISIT TO QUEEN HORTENSE. 

Louise de Cochelet relates as follows : “ Madame de 
Stael and Madame Recamier had begged permission of 
the queen to visit her, for the purpose of tendering their 
thanks. The queen invited them to visit her at St. Leu, 
on the following day. 


MADAME DE STALL’S VISIT TO QUEEN HORTENSE. 233 

44 She asked my advice as to which of the members 
of her social circle were best qualified to cope with 
Madame de Stael. 

44 4 1, for my part,’ said the queen, 4 have not the cour- 
age to take the lead in the conversation ; one cannot be 
very intellectual when sad at heart, and I fear my dull- 
ness will infect the others.’ 

44 We let quite a number of amiable persons pass be- 
fore us in review, and I amused myself at the mention 
of each new name, by saying, 4 He is too dull for Ma- 
dame de Stael.’ 

44 The queen laughed, and the list of those who were 
to be invited was at last agreed upon. We all awaited ' 
the arrival of the two ladies in great suspense. The 
obligation imposed on us by the queen, of being intel- 
lectual at all hazards, had the effect of conjuring up a 
somewhat embarrassed and stupid expression to our 
faces. We presented the appearance of actors on the 
stage looking at each other, while awaiting the rise of 
the curtain. Jests and bon mots followed each other in 
rapid succession until the arrival of the carriage recalled 
to our faces an expression of official earnestness. 

44 Madame Recamier, still young, and very handsome, 
and with an expression of naivete in her charming coun- 
tenance, made the impression on me of being a young 
lady in love, carefully watched over by too severe a du- 
enna , her timid, gentle manner contrasted so strongly with 
the somewhat too masculine self-consciousness of her 
companion. Madame de Stael is, however, generally ad- 


234 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


mitted to have been good and kind, particularly to this 
friend, and I only speak of the impression she made on 
one to whom she was a stranger, at first sight. 

“ Madame de Stael’s extremely dark complexion, her 
original toilet, her perfectly bare shoulders, of which 
either might have been very beautiful, but which har- 
monized very poorly with each other ; her whole en- 
semble was far from approximating to the standard of 
the ideal I had formed of the authoress of Delphine and 
Corinne. I had almost hoped to find in her one of the 
heroines she had so beautifully portrayed, and I was 
therefore struck dumb with astonishment. But, after 
the first shock, I was at least compelled to acknowledge 
that she possessed very beautiful and expressive eyes ; 
and yet it seemed impossible for me to find anything in 
her countenance on which love could fasten, although I 
have been told that she has often inspired that sentiment. 

“When I afterward expressed my astonishment to 
the queen, she replied : £ It is, perhaps, because she is 
capable of such great love herself, that she succeeds in 
inspiring others with love ; moreover, it flatters a man’s 
self-love to be noticed by such a woman, and, in the end, 
one can dispense with beauty, when one has Madame de 
Stael’s intellect.’ 

“ The queen inquired after Madame de Stael’s daugh- 
ter, who had not come with her, and who was said to be 
truly charming. I believe the young gentlemen of our 
party could have confronted the beautiful eyes of the 
daughter with still greater amiability than those of the 


MADAME DE STAEL’S VISIT TO QUEEN HORTENSE. 235 

mother, but an attack of toothache had prevented her 
coming. 

“ After the first compliments and salutations, the 
queen proposed to the ladies to take a look at her park. 
They seated themselves on the cushions of the queen’s 
large char a banc , which has become historic on account 
of the many high and celebrated personages who have 
been driven in it at different times. The Emperor Na- 
poleon was, however, not one of this number, as he never 
visited St. Leu ; but, with this exception, there are few 
of the great and celebrated who have not been seated in 
it at one time or another. 

“ As they drove through the park and the forest of 
Montmorency, in a walk only, the conversation was kept 
up as in the parlor, and the consumption of intellectuality 
was continued. The beautiful neighborhood, that re- 
minded one of Switzerland, as it was remarked, was duly 
admired. Then Italy was spoken of. The queen, who 
had been somewhat distraite, and had good cause to be 
somewhat sad, and disposed to commune with herself, 
addressed Madame de Stael with the question, 4 You have 
been in Italy, then ? ’ 

44 Madame de Stael was, as it were, transfixed with 
dismay, and the gentlemen exclaimed with one accord : 
4 And Corinne ? and Corinne ? ’ 

44 4 Ah, that is true,’ said the queen, in embarrassment, 
awakening, as it were, from her dreams. 

44 4 Is it possible,’ asked M. de Canon ville, 4 your majes- 
ty has not read Corinne ? ’ 

16 


236 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“ £ Yes — no,’ said the queen, visibly confused, ‘ I shall 
read it again,’ and, in order to conceal an emotion that I 
alone could understand, she abruptly changed the topic of 
conversation. 

“ She might have said the truth, and simply informed 
them that the book had appeared just at the time her eld- 
est son had died in Holland. The king, disquieted at 
seeing her so profoundly given up to her grief, believed, 
in accordance with Corvisart’s advice, that it was neces- 
sary to arouse her from this state of mental dejection at 
all hazards. It was determined that I should read ‘ Co- 
rinne ’ to her. She was not in a condition to pay much 
attention to it, but she had involuntarily retained some 
remembrance of this romance. Since then, I had several 
times asked permission of the queen to read Corinne to 
her, but she had always refused. ‘ No, no,’ said she, £ not 
yet ; this romance has identified itself with my sorrow. 
Its name alone recalls the most fearful period of my 
whole life. I have not yet the courage to renew these 
painful impressions.’ 

“ I, alone, had therefore been able to divine what had 
embarrassed and moved the queen so much when she re- 
plied to the question addressed to her concerning Co- 
rinne. But the authoress could, of course, only interpret 
it as indicating indifference for her master-work, and I 
told the queen on the following day that it would have 
been better to have confessed the cause of her confusion 
to Madame de Stael. 

“ ‘ Madame de Stael would not have understood me,’ 


MADAME DE STALL’S VISIT TO QUEEN HORTENSE. 237 

said she ; ‘ now, I am lost to her good opinion, she will 
consider me a simpleton, but it was not the time to speak 
of myself, and of my painful reminiscences.’ 

“ The large char a banc was always preferred to the 
handsomest carriages (although it was very plain, and 
consisted of two wooden benches covered with cushions, 
placed opposite each other), because it was more favor- 
able for conversation. But it afforded no security against 
inclement weather, and this we were soon to experience. 
The rain poured in streams, and we all returned to the 
castle thoroughly wet. A room was there prepared and 
offered the ladies, in which they might repair the dis- 
arrangement of their toilet caused by the storm. I re- 
mained with them long, kept there by the questions of 
Madame de Stael concerning the queen and her son, 
which questions were fairly showered upon me. There 
was now no longer a question of intellectuality, but mere- 
ly of washing, hair-dressing, and reposing, with an entire 
abandonment of the display of mind, the copiousness of 
which I had been compelled to admire but a moment be- 
fore. I said to myself : ‘ There they are, face to face, like 
the rest of the world, with material life, these two cele- 
brated women, who are everywhere sought after, and 
received with such marked consideration. There they 
are, as wet as myself, and as little poetic.’ We were 
really behind the curtain, but it was shortly to rise 
again. 

“ Voices were heard under the window ; among other 
voices, a German accent was audible, and both ladies im- 


238 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

mediately exclaimed : ‘ Ah, that is Prince Augustus of 
Prussia ! ’ 

“Ko one expected the prince, and this meeting with 
the two ladies had therefore the appearance of being acci- 
dental. He had come merely to pay the queen a visit, 
and it was so near dinner-time, that politeness required 
that he should be invited to remain. And this was doubt- 
less what he wished. 

“ The prince had the queen on his right, and Madame 
de Stael on his left. The servant of the latter had laid a 
little green twig on her napkin, which she twisted be- 
tween her fingers while speaking, as was her habit. The 
conversation was animated, and it was amusing to observe 
Madame de Stael gesticulating with the little twig in her 
fingers. One might have supposed that some fairy had 
given her this talisman, and that her genius was depend- 
ent upon this little twig. 

“ Constantinople, with which city several of the gen- 
tlemen were well acquainted, was now the topic of con- 
versation. Madame de Stael thought it would be a 
delightful task for an intellectual woman, to turn the 
sultan’s head, and then to compel him to give his Turks 
a constitution. After dinner, freedom of the press was 
also a topic of conversation. 

“ Madame de Stael astonished me, not only by the 
brilliancy of her genius, but also by the deep earnestness 
with which she treated questions of that kind, for until 
then custom had not allowed women to discuss such mat- 
ters. At entertainments, philosophy, morals, sentiment, 


MADAME DE STALL’S VISIT TO QUEEN HORTENSE. 239 

heroism, and the like, had been the subjects of conversa- 
tion, but the emperor monopolized politics. His era was 
that of actions, and, we may say it with pride, of great 
actions, while the era that followed was essentially that 
of great words, and of political and literary contro- 
versies. 

“ Madame de Stael spoke to the queen of her motto : 
i Ho that which is right, happen what may.’ 

“ ‘ In my exile, which you so kindly endeavored to 
terminate,’ said she, ‘ I often repeated this motto, and 
thought of you while doing so.’ 

“ While speaking thus, her countenance was illumined 
by the reflection of inward emotion, and I found her 
beautiful. She was no longer the woman of mind only, 
but also the woman of heart and feeling, and I com- 
prehended at this moment how charming she could be. 

“Afterward, she had a long conversation with the 
queen touching the emperor. ‘Why was he so angry 
with me ? ’ asked she. ‘ He could not have known how 
much I admired him ! I will see him — I shall go to 
Elba ! Ho you think he would receive me well ? I 
was born to worship this man, and he has repelled me.’ 

“ 6 Ah, madame,’ replied the queen, ‘ I have often heard 
the emperor say that he had a great mission to fulfil, and 
that he could compare his labors with the exertions of a 
man who, having the summit of a steep mountain ever 
before his eyes, strains every nerve to attain it, ever toil- 
ing painfully upward, and allowing his progress to be 
arrested by no obstacle whatever. “ All the worse for 


240 


QUEEN HOKTENSE. 


those,” said he, “ who meet me on my course — I can show 
them no consideration.” ’ 

“ 4 You met him on his course, madame ; perhaps he 
would have extended you a helping hand, after having 
reached the summit of his mountain.’ 

44 4 1 must speak with him,’ said Madame de Stael ; 4 1 
have been injured in his opinion.’ 

“ 4 I think so too,’ replied the queen, 4 but you would 
judge him ill, if you considered him capable of hating 
any one. He believed you to be his enemy, and he 
feared you, which was something very unusual for him,’ 
added she, with a smile. 4 How that he is unfortunate, 
you will show yourself his friend, and prove yourself to 
be such, and I am satisfied that he w r ill receive you 
well.’ 

“ Madame de Stael also occupied herself a great deal 
with the young princes, but she met with worse success 
with them than with us. It was perhaps in order to 
judge of their mental capacity, that she showered unsuit- 
able questions upon them. 

“ 4 Do you love your uncle ? ’ 

44 4 Very much, madame ! ’ 

“ 4 And will you also be as fond of war as he is ? ’ 

44 4 Yes, if it did not cause so much misery.’ 

44 4 Is it true that he often made you repeat a fable 
commencing with the words, 44 The strongest is always in 
the right ? ” ’ 

44 4 Madame, he often made us repeat fables, but this 
one not oftener than any other.’ 


THE OLD AND THE NEW ERA. 


241 


“ Young Prince Napoleon, a boy of astounding men- 
tal capacity and precocious judgment, answered all these 
questions w T itli the greatest composure, and, at the con- 
clusion of this examination, turned to me and said quite 
audibly : ‘ This lady asks a great many questions. Is 
that what you call being intellectual ? ’ 

“ After the departure of our distinguished visitors, 
we all indulged in an expression of opinion concerning 
them, and young Prince Napoleon was the one upon 
whom the ladies had made the least flattering impres- 
sion, but he only ventured to intimate as much in a low 
voice. 

“ I for my part had been more dazzled than glad- 
dened by this visit. One could not avoid admiring this 
genius in spite of its inconsiderateness, and its wander- 
ings, but there was nothing pleasing, nothing graceful and 
womanly, in Madame de Stael’s manner.” * 


CHAPTER YI. 

THE OLD AND THE NEW ERA. 

The restoration was accomplished. The allies had at 
last withdrawn from the kingdom, and Louis XVIII. was 
now the independent ruler of France. In him, in the re- 
turned members of his family, and in the emigrants who 
were pouring into the country from all quarters, was 

* Cochelet, Memoires sur la Reine Hortense, vol. i., pp. 429-440. 


242 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


represented the old era of France, the era of despotic 
royal power, of brilliant manners, of intrigues, of aristo- 
cratic ideas, of ease and luxury. Opposed to them stood 
the France of the new era, the generation formed by 
Napoleon and the revolution, the new aristocracy, who 
possessed no other ancestors than merit and valorous 
deeds, an aristocracy that had nothing to relate of the 
mil de bmuf and the jpetites maisons , but an aristocracy 
that could tell of the battle-field and of the hospitals in 
which their wounds had been healed. 

These two parties stood opposed to each other. 

Old and young France now carried on an hourly, con- 
tinuous warfare at the court of Louis XVIII., with this 
difference, however, that young France, hitherto ever 
victorious, now experienced a continuous series of re- 
verses and humiliations. Old France was now victorious. 
Not victorious through its gallantry and merit, but 
through its past, which it endeavored to connect with 
the present, without considering the chasm which lay 
between. 

True, King Louis had agreed, in the treaty of the 
11th of April, that none of his subjects should be de- 
prived of their titles and dignities ; and the new dukes, 
princes, marshals, counts, and barons, could therefore ap- 
pear at court, but they played but a sad and humiliating 
rdle y and they were made to feel that they were only 
tolerated, and not welcome. 

The gentlemen wdio, before the revolution, had been 
entitled to seats in the royal equipages, still retained this 


THE OLD AND THE NEW ERA. 


243 


privilege, but the doors of these equipages were never 
opened to the gentlemen of the new Napoleonic nobility. 
“ The ladies of the old era still retained their tabouret , 
as well as their grand and little entree to the Tuileries 
and the Louvre, and it would have been considered very 
arrogant if the duchesses of the new era had made claim 
to similar honors.” 

It was the Duchess d’Angouleme who took the lead 
and set the Faubourg St. Germain an example of intoler- 
ance and arrogant pretensions in ignoring the empire. 
She was the most unrelenting enemy of the new era, 
born of the revolution, and of its representatives ; it is 
true, however, that she, who was the daughter of the 
beheaded royal pair, and who had herself so long lan- 
guished in the Temple, had been familiar with the horrors 
of the revolution in their saddest and most painful fea- 
tures. She now determined, as she could no longer pun- 
ish, to at least forget this era, and to seem to be entirely 
oblivious of its existence. 

At one of the first dinners given by the king to the 
allies, the Duchess d’Angouleme, who sat next to the 
King of Bavaria, pointed to the Grand-duke of Baden, 
and asked : “ Is not this the prince who married a prin- 
cess of Bonaparte’s making? What weakness to ally 
one’s self in such a manner with that general ! ” 

The duchess did not or would not remember that the 
King of Bavaria, as well as the Emperor of Austria, 
who sat on her other side, and could well hear her words, 
had also allied themselves with General Bonaparte. 


244 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


After slie had again installed herself in the rooms she 
had formerly occupied in the Tuileries, the duchess asked 
old Dubois, who had formerly tuned her piano, and 
had retained this office under the empire, and wdio now 
showed her the new and elegant instruments provided by 
Josephine — she asked him : “ What has become of my 
piano ? ” 

This “ piano ” had been an old and worn-out concern, 
and the duchess was surprised at not finding it, as though 
almost thirty years had not passed since she had seen it 
last; as though the 10th of August, 1792, the day on 
which the populace demolished the Tuileries, had never 
been ! 

But the period from 1795 to 1814 was ignored on 
principle, and the Bourbons seemed really to have quite 
forgotten that more than one night lay between the last 
levee of King Louis XVI. and the levee of to-day of 
King Louis XVIII. They seemed astonished that per- 
sons they had known as children had grown up since 
they last saw them, and insisted on treating every one as 
they had done in 1789. 

After the Empress Josephine’s death, Count d’ Artois 
paid a visit to Malmaison, a place that had ha&ly existed 
before the revolution, and which owed its creation to 
Josephine’s love and taste for art. 

The empress, who had a great fondness for botany, 
had caused magnificent greenhouses to be erected at Mal- 
maison ; in these all the plants and flowers of the world 
had been collected. Knowing her taste, all the princes 


THE OLD AND THE NEW ERA. 


245 


of Europe had sent her, in the days of her grandeur, in 
order to afford her a moment’s gratification, the rarest 
exotics. The Prince Regent of England had even found 
means, during the war with France, to send her a number 
of rare West-Indian plants. In this manner her collection 
had become the richest and most complete in all Europe. 

Count d’ Artois, as above said, had come to Malmai- 
son to view this celebrated place of sojourn of Josephine, 
and, while being conducted through the greenhouses, he 
exclaimed, as though he recognized his old flowers of 
1789 : “ Ah, here are our plants of Trianon ! ” 

And, like their masters the Bourbons, the emigrants 
had also returned to France wdth the same ideas with 
which they had fled the country. They endeavored, in 
all their manners, habits, and pretensions, to begin again 
precisely where they had left off in 1789. They had 
so lively an appreciation of their own merit, that they 
took no notice whatever of other people’s, and yet their 
greatest merit consisted in having emigrated. 

For this merit they now demanded a reward. 

All of these returned emigrants demanded rewards, 
positions, and pensions, and considered it incomprehensi- 
ble that those who were already in possession were not at 
once deprived of them. Intrigues were the order of the 
day, and in general the representatives of the old era 
succeeded in supplanting those of the new era in offices 
and pensions as well as in court honors. All the high 
positions in the army were filled by the marquises, 
dukes, and counts, of the old era, who had sewed 


246 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tapestry and picked silk in Coblentz, while the France 
of the new era was fighting on the battle-field, and they 
now began to teach the soldiers of the empire the old 
drill of 1780. 

The etiquette of the olden time was restored, and 
the same luxurious and lascivious disposition prevailed 
among these cavaliers of the former century which had 
been approved in the ceil de bceuf and in th sjpetites mai- 
sons of the old era. 

These old cavaliers felt contempt for the young 
Frenchmen of the new era on account of their pedantic 
morality ; they scornfully regarded men who perhaps 
had not more than one mistress, and to whom the wife 
of a friend was so sacred, that they never dared to ap- 
proach her with a disrespectful thought even. 

These legitimist gentlemen entertained themselves 
chiefly with reflections over the past, and their own 
grandeur. In the midst of the many new things by 
which they were surrounded, some of which they unfor- 
tunately found it impossible to ignore, it was their sweet- 
est relaxation to give themselves up entirely to the re- 
membrance of the old regime , and when they spoke of 
this era, they forgot their age and debility, and were 
once more the young roues of the ceil de bceuf. 

Once in the antechamber of King Louis XVIII., 
while the Marquis de Chimene and the Duke de Laura- 
guais, two old heroes of the frivolous era, in which the 
boudoir and the petites maisons were the battle-field, and 
the myrtle instead of the laurel the reward of victory, 


THE OLD AND THE NEW ERA. 


247 


while these gentlemen were conversing of some occur- 
rence under the old government, the Duke de Laura- 
guais, in order to more nearly fix the date of the occur- 
rence of which they were speaking, remarked to the mar- 
quis, “ It was in the year in which I had my liaison with 
your wife.” 

“Ah, yes,” replied the marquis, with perfect com- 
posure, “that was in the year 1776.” 

Neither of the gentlemen found anything strange in 
this allusion to the past. The liaison in question had 
been a perfectly commonplace matter, and it would have 
been as ridiculous in the duke to deny it as for the mar- 
quis to have shown any indignation. 

The wisest and most enlightened of all these gentle- 
men was their head, King Louis XVIII. himself. 

He was well aware of the errors of those who sur- 
rounded him, and placed but little confidence in the rep- 
resentatives of the old court. But he was nevertheless 
powerless to withdraw himself from their influence, and 
after he had accorded the people the charter, in opposi- 
tion to the will and opinion of the whole royal family, 
of his whole court and of his ministers, and had sworn 
to support it in spite of the opposition of “ Monsieur ” 
and the Prince de Conde, who was in the habit of call- 
ing the charter “ Mademoiselle la Constitution de 1791” 
Louis withdrew to the retirement of his apartments in 
the Tuileries, and left his minister Blacas to attend to 
the little details of government, the king deeming the 
great ones only worthy of his attention. 


248 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER Y II. 

KING LOUIS XVIII. 

King Louis XYIII. was, however, in the retirement 
of his palace, still the most enlightened and unprejudiced 
of the representatives of the old era ; he clearly saw many 
things to which his advisers purposely closed their eyes. 
To his astonishment, he observed that the men who had 
risen to greatness under Bonaparte, and who had fallen 
to the king along with the rest of his inheritance, were 
not so ridiculous, awkward, and foolish, as they had been 
represented to be. 

“ I had been made to suppose,” said Louis XYIII., 
“ that these generals of Bonaparte were peasants and ruf- 
fians, but such is not the case. He schooled these men 
well. They are polite, and quite as shrewd as the rep- 
resentatives of the old court. We must conduct ourselves 
very cautiously toward them.” 

This kind of recognition of the past which sometimes 
escaped Louis XYIII., was a subject of bitter displeasure 
to the gentlemen of the old era, and they let the king per- 
ceive it. 

King Louis felt this, and, in order to conciliate his 
court, he often saw himself compelled to humiliate “ the 
parvenus” who had forced themselves among the for- 
mer. 

Incessant quarrelling and intriguing within the Tuil- 
eries was the consequence, and Louis was often dejected, 


KING LOUIS XVIII. 


249 


uneasy, and angry, in the midst of the splendor that sur- 
rounded him. 

“ I am angry with myself and the others,” said he on 
one occasion to an intimate friend. “ An invisible and 
secret power is ever working in opposition to my will, 
frustrating my plans, and paralyzing my authority.’’ 

“ And yet you are king ! ” 

“ Undoubtedly I am king ! ” exclaimed Louis, angri- 
ly “ but am I also master ? The king is he who all his 
life long receives ambassadors, gives tiresome audiences, 
listens to annihilating discourses, goes in state to Uotre- 
Dame, dines in public once a year, and is pompously 
buried in St. Denis when he dies. The master is he who 
commands and can enforce obedience, who puts an end 
to intriguing, and can silence old women as well as 
priests. Bonaparte was king and master at the same 
time ! Llis ministers were his clerks, the kings his 
brothers merely his agents, and his courtiers nothing 
more than his servants. His ministers vied with his sen- 
ate in servility, and his Corps Legislatif sought to out- 
do his senate and the church in subserviency. He was 
an extraordinary and an enviable man, for he had not 
only devoted servants and faithful friends, but also an 
accommodating church.” * 

King Louis XVIII., weary of the incessant intrigues 
with which his courtiers occupied themselves, withdrew 
himself more and more into the retirement of his palace, 
and left the affairs of state to the care of M. de Blacas, 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. v., p. 35. 


250 QUEEN HORTENSE. 

who, with all his arrogance and egotism, knew very little 
about governing. 

The king preferred to entertain himself with his 
friends, to read them portions of his memoirs, to afford 
them an opportunity of admiring his verses, and to regale 
them with his witty and not always chaste anecdotes ; he 
preferred all these things to tedious and useless disputes 
with his ministers. He had given his people the charter, 
and his ministers might now govern in accordance with 
this instrument. 

“ The people demand liberty,” said the king. “ I give 
them enough of it to protect them against despotism, with- 
out according them unbridled license. Formerly, the 
taxes appointed by my mere will would have made me 
odious ; now the people tax themselves. Hereafter, I 
have nothing to do but to confer benefits and show 
mercy, for the responsibility for all the evil that is done 
will rest entirely with my ministers.” * 

While his ministers were thus governing according to 
the charter, and “ doing evil,” the king, who now had 
nothing but “ good ” to do, was busying himself in set- 
tling the weighty questions of the old etiquette. 

One of the most important features of this etiquette 
was the question of the fashions that should now be intro- 
duced at court ; for it was, of course, absurd to think of 
adopting the fashions of the empire, and thereby recog- 
nize at court that there had really been a change since 
1789. 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 410. 




KING LOUIS XVIII. 


251 


They desired to effect a counter-revolution, not only 
in politics, but also in fashions ; and this important mat- 
ter occupied the attention of the grand dignitaries of the 
court for weeks before the first grand levee that the king 
was to hold in the Tuileries. But, as nothing was accom- 
plished by their united wisdom, the king finally held a 
private consultation with his most intimate gentleman 
and lady friends on this important matter, that had, un- 
fortunately, not been determined by the charter. 

The grand-master of ceremonies, M. de Brege, de- 
clared to the king that it was altogether improper to con- 
tinue the fashions of the empire at the court of the legiti- 
mate King of France. 

“We are, therefore, to have powder, coats-of-mail, 
etc.,” observed the king. 

M. de Brege replied, with all gravity, that he had 
given this subject his earnest consideration day and 
night, but that he had not yet arrived at a conclusion 
worthy of the grand-master of ceremonies of the legiti- 
mate king. 

“ Sire,” said the Duke de Chartres, smiling, “ I, for 
my part, demand knee-breeches, shoe-buckles, and the 
cue.” 

“ But I,” exclaimed the Prince de Poir, who had re- 
mained in France during the empire, “ I demand dam- 
ages, if we are to be compelled to return to the old fash- 
ions and clothing before the new ones are worn out ! ” 

The grand-master of ceremonies replied to this jest at 

his expense with a profound sigh only ; and the king at 
17 


252 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


last put an end to this great question, by deciding that 
every one should be permitted to follow the old or new 
fashions, according to his individual taste and inclination. 

The grand-master of ceremonies was compelled to 
submit to this royal decision ; but in doing so he ob- 
served, with profound sadness : “ Your majesty is pleased 
to smile, but dress makes half the man ; uniformity of 
attire confounds the distinctions of rank, and leads direct- 
ly to an agrarian law.” 

“ Yes, marquis,” exclaimed the king, “ you think pre- 
cisely as Figaro. Many a man laughs at a judge in a 
short dress, who trembles before a procurator in a long 
gown.” * 

But while the king suppressed the counter-revolution 
in fashions, he allowed the grand-master of ceremonies to 
reintroduce the entire etiquette of the old era. In con- 
formity with this etiquette, the king could not rise from 
his couch in the morning until the doors had been 
opened to all those who had the grande entree — that is to 
say, to the officers of his household, the marshals of 
France, several favored ladies; further, to his cafetier , 
his tailor, the bearer of his slippers, his barber, with two 
assistants, his watchmaker, and his apothecaries. 

The king was dressed in the presence of all these 
favored individuals, etiquette permitting him only to 
adjust his necktie himself, but requiring him, however, 
to empty his pockets of their contents of the previous 
day. 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 384. 


KING LOUIS XVIII. 


253 


Tlie usage of the old era, “ the public dinner of the 
royal family,” was also reintroduced ; and the grand- 
master of ceremonies not only found it necessary to make 
preparations for this dinner weeks beforehand, but the 
king was also compelled to occupy himself with this mat- 
ter, and to appoint for this great ceremony the necessary 
“ officers of provisions ” — that is to say, the wine-taster, 
the cup-bearers, the grand doorkeepers, and the cook-in- 
chief. 

At this first grand public dinner, the celebrated and 
indispensable “ ship ” of the royal board stood again 
immediately in front of the king’s seat. This old “ ship ” 
of the royal board, an antique work of art which the city 
of Paris had once presented to a King of France, had 
also been lost in the grand shipwreck of 1792, and the 
grand-master of ceremonies had been compelled to have a 
new one made by the court jeweller for the occasion. 
This “ ship ” was a work in gilded silver, in form of a 
vessel deprived of its masts and rigging ; and in the same, 
between two golden plates, were contained the perfumed 
napkins of the king. In accordance with the old etiquette, 
no one, not even the princes and princesses, could pass 
the “ ship ” without making a profound obeisance, which 
they were also compelled to make on passing the royal 
couch. 

The king restored yet another fashion of the old era 
— the fashion of the “ royal lady-friends.” 

Like his brother the Count d’ Artois, Louis XVIII. 
also had his lady-friends ; and among these the beautiful 


254 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and witty Countess Ducayla occupied tlie first position. 
It was her office to amuse the king, and dissipate the 
dark clouds that were only too often to be seen on the 
brow of King Louis, who was chained to his arm-chair 
by ill-health, weakness, and excessive corpulency. She 
narrated to him the chronique scandaleuse of the im- 
perial court ; she reminded him of the old affairs of his 
youth, which the king knew how to relate with so 
much wit and humor, and which he so loved to relate ; 
it devolved upon her to examine the letters of the 
“ black cabinet,” and to read the more interesting ones 
to the king. 

King Louis was not ungrateful to his royal friend, 
and he rewarded her in a truly royal manner for some- 
times banishing ennui from his apartments. Finding 
that the countess had no intimate acquaintance with the 
contents of the Bible, he gave her the splendid Bible of 
Royaumont, ornamented with one hundred and fifty 
magnificent engravings, after paintings of Raphael. In- 
stead of tissue-paper, a thousand-franc note covered each 
of these engravings.* 

On another occasion, the king gave her a copy of the 
“ Charter ; ” and in this each leaf was also covered with 
a thousand-franc note, as in the Bible. 

For so many proofs of the royal generosity, the beau- 
tiful countess, perhaps willingly, submitted to be called 
“ the royal snuff-box,” which appellation had its origin in 

* Amours et Galanteries des Rois de France, par St. Edme, yol. ii., 
p. 383. Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 409. 


DRAWING-ROOM OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 255 

the habit which the king fondly indulged in of strewing 
snuff on the countess’s lovely shoulder, and then snuffing 
it up with his nose. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE DRAWING-ROOM OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 

While the etiquette and frivolity of the old era were 
being introduced anew at the Tuileries, and while M. de 
Blacas was governing in complacent recklessness, time 
was progressing, notwithstanding his endeavors to turn it 
backward in his flight. 

While, out of the incessant conflict between the old 
and the new France, a discontented France was being 
born, Napoleon, the Emperor of Elba, was forming great 
plans of conquest, and preparing in secret understanding 
with the faithful, to leave his place of exile and return 
to France. 

He well knew that he could rely on his old army — 
on the army who loudly cried, “ Vive le roi ! ” and then 
added, sotto voce , “ de Rome, et son petit papa ! ” * 

Hortense, the new Duchess of St. Leu, took but little 
part in all these things. She had, notwithstanding her 
youth and beauty, in a measure taken leave of the world. 
She felt herself to be no longer the woman, but only the 
mother ; her sons were the objects of all her tenderness 
and love, and she lived for them only. In her retire- 

* Cochelet, Memoires sur la Reine Hortense, vol. iii., p. 121. 


256 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ment at St. Leu, her time was devoted to the arts, to 
reading, and to study ; and, after having been thus occu- 
pied throughout the day, she passed the evening in her 
drawing-room, in unrestrained intellectual conversation 
with her friends. 

For she had friends who had remained true, notwith- 
standing the obscurity into which she had withdrawn 
herself, and who, although they filled important positions 
at the new court, had retained their friendship for the 
solitary dethroned queen. 

With these friends the Duchess of St. Leu conversed, 
in the evening, in her parlor, of the grand and beautiful 
past, giving themselves up entirely to these recollections, 
little dreaming that this harmless relaxation could awaken 
suspicion. 

For the Duke of Otranto, who had succeeded in his 
shrewdness in retaining his position of minister of police, 
as well under Louis XVIII. as under Xapoleon, had his 
spies everywhere ; he knew of ail that was said in every 
parlor of Paris ; he knew also that it was the custom, in 
the parlors of the Duchess of St. Leu, to look from the 
dark present back at the brilliant past, and to console 
one’s self for the littleness of the present, with the recol- 
lection of the grandeur of departed days ! And Fouche, 
or rather the Duke of Otranto, knew how to utilize 
everything. 

In order to arouse Minister Blacas out of his stupid 
dream of security, to a realizing sense of the grave 
events that were taking place, Fouche told him that a 


DRAWING-ROOM OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 257 

conspiracy against the government was being formed in 
the parlors of the Duchess of St. Leu ; that all those who 
were secret adherents of Bonaparte were in the habit of 
assembling there, and planning the deliverance of the 
emperor from Elba. In order, however, on the other 
hand, to provide against the possibility of Napoleon’s 
return, the Duke of Otranto hastened to the Duchess of 
St. Leu, to warn her and conjure her to be on her guard 
against the spies by whom she was surrounded, as sus- 
picion might be easily excited against her at court. 

Hortense paid no attention to this warning ; she con- 
sidered precaution unnecessary, and was not willing to 
deprive herself of her one happiness — that of seeing her 
friends, and of conversing with them in a free and un- 
constrained manner. 

The parlors of the duchess, therefore, continued to be 
thrown open to her faithful friends, who had also been 
the faithful servants of the emperor ; and the Dukes of 
Bassano, of Friaul, of Ragusa, of the Moskwa, and their 
wives, as well as the gallant Charles de Labedoyere, and 
the acute Count Regnault de Saint- Jean d’Angely, still 
continued to meet in the parlors of the Duchess of St. 
Leu. 

The voice of hostility was raised against them with 
ever-increasing hostility ; the reunions that took place at 
St. Leu were day by day portrayed at the Tuileries in 
more hateful colors; and the poor duchess, who lived in 
sorrow and retirement in her apartments, became an ob- 
ject of hatred and envy to these proud ladies of the old 


258 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


aristocracy, wlio were unable to comprehend how this 
woman could be thought of while they were near, al- 
though she had been the ornament of the imperial court, 
and who was considered amiable, intellectual, and beauti- 
ful, even under the legitimate dynasty. 

Ilortense heard of the ridiculous and malicious re- 
ports which had been circulated concerning her, and, for 
the sake of her friends and sons, she resolved to put an 
end to them. 

“ I must leave my dear St. Leu and go to Paris,” said 
she. “There they can better observe all my actions. 
Reason demands that I should conform myself to circum- 
stances.” 

She therefore abandoned her quiet home at St. Leu, 
and repaired with her children and her court to Paris, 
to again take up her abode in her dwelling in the Rue 
de la Yictoire. 

But this step gave fresh fuel to the calumnies of her 
enemies, who saw in her the embodied remembrance of 
the empire which they hated and at the same time feared. 

The Bonapartists still continued their visits to her 
parlors, as before ; and no appeals, no representations 
could induce Hortense to close her doors against her 
faithful friends, for fear that their fidelity might excite 
suspicion against herself. 

In order, however, to contradict the report that ad- 
herents of Napoleon only were in the habit of frequent- 
ing her parlors, the duchess also extended the hospitali- 
ties of her parlors to the strangers who brought letters of 


DRAWING-ROOM OP THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 259 

recommendation, and who desired to be introduced to 
her. Great numbers hastened to avail themselves of this 
permission. 

The most brilliant and select circle was soon assem- 
bled around the duchess. There, were to be found the 
great men of the empire, who came out of attachment ; 
distinguished strangers, who came out of admiration ; 
and, finally, the aristocrats of the old era, who came out 
of curiosity, who came to see if the Duchess of St. Leu 
was really so intelligent, amiable, and graceful, as she was 
said to be. 

The parlors of the duchess were therefore more 
talked of in Paris than they had been at St. Leu. The 
old duchesses and princesses of the Faubourg St. Ger- 
main, with all their ancestors, prejudices, and preten- 
sions, were enraged at hearing this everlasting praise of 
the charming queen, and endeavored to appease their 
wrath by renewed hostilities against its object. 

It was not enough that she was calumniated, at court 
and in society, as a dangerous person ; the arm of the 
press was also wielded against her. 

As we have said, Hortense was the embodied remem- 
brance of the empire, and it was therefore determined 
that she should be destroyed. Brochures and pamphlets 
were published, in which the king was appealed to, to 
banish from Paris, and even from France, the dangerous 
woman who was conspiring publicly, and even under the 
very eyes of the government, for Napoleon, and to ban- 
ish with her the two children also, the two Napoleons ; 


260 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


“for,” said these odious accusers, “to leave these two 
princes here, means to raise in France wolves that would 
one day ravage their country.” * 

Hortense paid but little attention to these reports and 
calumnies. She was too much accustomed to being mis- 
understood and wrongly judged, to allow herself to be 
disquieted thereby. She knew that calumnies were 
never refuted by contradiction, and that it was therefore 
better to meet them with proud silence, and to conquer 
them by contempt, instead of giving them new life by 
combating and contradicting them. 

She herself entertained such contempt for calumny 
that she never allowed anything abusive to be said in her 
presence that would injure any one in her estimation. 
When, on one occasion, while she was still Queen of 
Holland, a lady of Holland took occasion to speak ill of 
another lady, on account of her political opinions, the 
queen interrupted her, and said : “ Madame, here I am a 
stranger to all parties, and receive all persons with the 
same consideration, for I love to hear every one well 
spoken of ; and I generally receive an unfavorable im- 
pression of those only who speak ill of others.” f 

And, strange to say, she herself was ever the object of 
calumny and accusation. 

“ During twenty-five years, I have never been sepa- 
rated from Princess Hortense,” says Louise de Cochelet, 
“ and I have never observed in her the slightest feeling 

* Cochelet, Meraoires sur laReine Hortense, vol. ii., p. 230. 
f Cochelet, vol. i., p. 378. 


DRAWING-ROOM OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 261 

of bitterness against any one ; ever good and gentle, she 
never failed to take an interest in those who were un- 
happy ; and she endeavored to help them whenever and 
wherever they presented themselves. And this noble 
and gentle woman was always the object of hatred and 
absurd calumnies, and against all this she was armed 
with the integrity and purity of her actions and inten- 
tions only.” * 

Nor did Hortense now think of contradicting the 
calumnies that had been circulated concerning her. Her 
mind was occupied with other and far more important 
matters. 

An ambassador of her husband, who resided in Flor- 
ence, had come to Paris in order to demand of Hortense, 
in the name of Louis Bonaparte, his two sons. 

After much discussion, he had finally declared that he 
would be satisfied, if his wife would send him his eldest 
son, Napoleon Louis, only. 

But the loving mother could not and would not con- 
sent to a separation from either of her children ; and as, 
in spite of her entreaties, her husband persisted in refus- 
ing to allow her to retain both of them, she resolved, in 
the anguish of maternal love, to resort to the most ex- 
treme means to retain the possession of her sons. 

She informed her husband’s ambassador that it was 
her fixed purpose to retain possession of her children, 
and appealed to the law to recognize and protect them, 


* Cochelet, vol. i., p. 378. 


262 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and not allow her sons to be deprived of their rights as 
Frenchmen, bj going into a compulsory exile. 

While the Duchess of St. Leu was being accused of 
conspiring in favor of Napoleon, her whole soul was 
occupied with the one question, which was to decide 
whether one of her sons could be torn from her side or 
not; and, if she conspired at all, it was only with her 
lawyer in order to frustrate her husband’s plans. 

But the calumnies and accusations of the press were 
nevertheless continued ; and at last her friends thought it 
necessary to lay before the queen a journal that contained 
a violent and abusive article against her, and to request 
that they might be permitted to reply to it. 

With a sad smile, Hortense read the article and re- 
turned the newspaper. 

“It is extremely mortifying to be scorned by one’s 
countrymen,” said she, “ but it would be useless to make 
any reply. I can afford to disregard such attacks — they 
are powerless to harm me.” 

But when on the following morning the same journal 
contained a venomous and odious article levelled at her 
husband, Louis Bonaparte, her generous indignation was 
aroused, and, oblivious of all their disagreements, and 
even of the process now pending between them, she re- 
membered only that it was the father of her children 
whom they had dared to attack, and that he was not pres- 
sent to defend himself. It therefore devolved upon her 
to defend him. 

“ I am enraged, and I desire that M. Despres shall re- 


THE BURIAL OF LOUIS XYI. AND HIS WIFE. 263 


ply to this article at once,” said Hortense. “ Although 
paternal love on the one side, and maternal love on the 
other, has involved us in a painful process, it neverthe- 
less concerns no one else, and it disgraces neither of us. 
I should be in despair, if this sad controversy were made 
the pretext for insulting the father of my children and 
the honored name he bears. For the very reason that I 
stand alone, am I called on to defend the absent to the 
best of my ability. Therefore let M. Despres come to 
me ; I will instruct him how to answer this disgraceful 
article ! ” 

On the following day, an able and eloquent article in 
defence of Louis Bonaparte appeared in the journal — an 
article that shamed and silenced his accusers — an article 
which the prince, whose cause it so warmly espoused, 
probably never thought of attributing to the w r ife to 
whose maternal heart he had caused such anguish. * 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE BTJRIAL OF LOUIS XVI. AND HIS WIFE. 

The earnest endeavors of the Bourbon court to find 
the resting-place of the remains of the royal couple who 
had died on the scaffold, and who had expiated the crimes 
of their predecessors rather than their own, were at last 
successful. The remains of the illustrious martyrs had 


Cochelet, vol. i., p. 303. 


264: 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


been sought for in accordance with the directions of per- 
sons who had witnessed their sorrowful and contemptu- 
ous burial, and the body of Louis XVI. was found in a 
desolate corner of the grave-yard of St. Roch, and in an- 
other place also that of Queen Marie Antoinette. 

It was the king’s wish, and a perfectly natural and 
just one, to inter these bodies in the royal vault at St. 
Denis, but he wished to do it quietly and without pomp ; 
his acute political tact taught him that these sad remains 
should not be made the occasion of a political demonstra- 
tion, and that it was unwise to permit the bones of Louis 
XVI. to become a new apple of discord. 

But the king’s court, even his nearest relatives, his 
ministers, and the whole troop of arrogant courtiers, who 
desired, by means of an ostentatious interment, not only 
to show a proper respect for the beheaded royal pair, but 
also to punish those whom they covertly called “ regi- 
cides,” and whom they were nevertheless now compelled 
to tolerate — the king’s entire court demanded a solemn 
and ceremonious interment ; and Louis, who, as he him- 
self had said, “ was king, but not master,” was compelled 
to yield to this demand. 

Preparations were therefore made for an ostentatious 
interment of the royal remains, and it was determined 
that the melancholy rites should take place on the 21st of 
January, 1815, the anniversary of painful memories and 
unending regret for the royal family. 

M. de Chateaubriand, the noble and intelligent eulo- 
gist and friend of the Bourbons, caused an article to be in- 


THE BURIAL OF LOUIS XVI. AND HIS WIFE. 265 

serted in the Journal des Debats , in which he announced 
the impending ceremony. This article was then repub- 
lished in pamphlet form ; and so great was the sym- 
pathy of the Parisians in the approaching event, that 
thirty thousand copies were disposed of, in Paris alone, 
in one day. 

On the 20th of January the graves of the martyrs 
were opened, and all the princes of the royal house who 
were present, knelt down at the edge of the grave to 
mingle their prayers with those of the thousands who 
had accompanied them to the church-yard. 

But the king was right. This act, that appeared to 
some to be a mere act of justice, seemed an insult to 
others, and reminded them of the dark days of error and 
fanaticism, in which they had allowed themselves to be 
drawn into the vortex of the general delirium. Many of 
those who in the Assembly had voted for the death of the 
king, were now residing at Paris, and even at court, as 
for instance Fouche, and to them the approaching cere- 
mony seemed an insult. 

“ Are you aware,” exclaimed Descourtis, as he rushed 
into the apartment of Cambac6res, who was at that mo- 
ment conversing with the Count de Pere, “have you 
already been informed that this ceremony is really to take 
place to-morrow ? ” 

“Yes, to-morrow is the fated day. To-morrow we 
are to be delivered over to the daggers of fanatics.” 

“ Is this the pardon that was promised us ? ” 

“ As for that,” exclaimed the Count de Pere (a good 


206 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


royalist), “ I was not aware that there was an article in 
the constitution forbidding the reinterment of the mortal 
remains of the royal pair. The proceeding will be per- 
fectly lawful.” 

u It is their purpose to infuriate the populace,” ex- 
claimed Descourtis, pale with inward agitation. “ Old 
recollections are to be recalled and a mute accusation 
hurled at us. But we shall some day be restored to 
power again, and then w^e will remember also ! ” 

Cambaceres, who had listened to this conversation in 
silence, now stepped forward, and, taking Descourtis’s 
hand in his own, pressed it tenderly. 

“ Ah, my friend,” said he, in sad and solemn tones, 
“ I would we were permitted to march behind the funeral- 
car in mourning-robes to-morrow ! ¥e owe this proof of 
repentance to France and to ourselves ! ” 

The solemn funeral celebration took place on the fol- 
lowing day. All Paris took part in it. Every one, even 
the old republicans, the Bonapartists as well as the royal- 
ists, joined the funeral procession, in order to testify that 
they had abandoned the past and were repentant. 

Slowly and solemnly, amid the ringing of all the 
bells, the roll of the drum, the thunders of artillery, 
and the chants of the clergy, the procession moved on- 
ward. 

The golden crown, which hung suspended over the 
funeral-car, shone lustrously in the sunlight. It had 
fallen from the heads of the royal pair while they still 
lived ; it now adorned them in death. 


NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA. 


267 


Slowly and solemnly the procession moved onward ; it 
had arrived at the Boulevards which separates the two 
streets of Montmartre. Suddenly a terrible, thousand- 
voiced cry of horror burst upon the air. 

The crown, which hung suspended over the funeral- 
car, had fallen down, touching the coffins with a dismal 
sound, and then broke into fragments on the glittering 
snow of the street. 

This occurred on the 21st of January ; two months 
later, at the same hour, and on the same day, the crown 
of Louis XVIII. fell from his head, and Napoleon placed 
it on his own ! 


CHAPTER X. 

napoleon’s RETURN FROM ELBA. 

A cry of tremendous import reverberated through 
Paris, all France, and all Europe, in the first days of 
March, 1815. Napoleon, it was said, had quitted Elba, 
and would soon arrive in France ! 

The royalists heard it with dismay, the Bonapartists 
with a delight that they hardly took the pains to con- 
ceal. 

Hortense alone took no part in the universal delight 

of the imperialists. Her soul was filled with profound 

sadness and dark forebodings. “I lament this step,” 

said she ; “ I would have sacrificed every thing to prevent 

his return to France, because I am of the belief that no 
18 


268 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


good can come of it. Many will declare for, and many 
against him, and we shall have a civil war, of which the 
emperor himself may be the victim.” * 

In the meanwhile the general excitement was continu- 
ally increasing ; it took possession of every one, and at 
this time none would have been capable of giving cool 
and sensible advice. 

Great numbers of the emperor’s friends came to the 
Duchess of St. Leu, and demanded of her counsel, assist- 
ance, and encouragement, accusing her of indifference and 
want of sympathy, because she did not share their hopes, 
and was sad instead of rejoicing with them. 

But the spies of the still ruling government, who lay 
in wait around the queen’s dwelling, did not hear her 
words ; they only saw that the emperor’s former generals 
and advisers were in the habit of repairing to her parlors, 
and that was sufficient to stamp Hortense as the head of 
the conspiracy which had for its object the return of Na- 
poleon to France. 

The queen perceived the danger of her situation, but 
she bowed her head to receive the blows of Fate in silent 
resignation. “ I am environed by torments and perplex- 
ities,” said she, “ but I see no means of avoiding them. 
There is no resource for me but to arm myself with 
courage, and that I will do.” 

The royal government, however, still hoped to be able 
to stem the advancing tide, and compel the waves of 


* Cochelet, vol. ii., p. 348. 


NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA. 2$9> 

insurrection to surge backward and destroy those who 
had set them in motion. 

They proposed to treat the great event which made 
France glow with new pulsations, as a mere insurrection, 
that had been discovered in good time, and could there- 
fore be easily repressed. They therefore determined, 
above all, to seize and render harmless the “ conspira- 
tors,” that is to say, all those of whom it was known 
that they had remained faithful to the emperor in their 
hearts. 

Spies surrounded the houses of all the generals, dukes, 
and princes of the empire, and it was only in disguise and 
by the greatest dexterity that they could evade the vigil- 
ance of the police. 

The Duchess of St. Leu was at last also compelled to 
yield to the urgent entreaties of her friends, and seek 
an asylum during these days of uncertainty and danger. 
She quitted her dwelling in disguise, and, penetrating 
through the army of spies who lay in wait around the 
house and in the street in which she resided, she happily 
succeeded in reaching the hiding-place prepared for her 
by a faithful servant of her mother. She had already 
confided her children to another servant wdio had re- 
mained true to her in her time of trouble. 

The Duke of Otranto, now once more the faithful 
Fouche of the empire, was also to have been arrested, but 
he managed to effect his escape. General Lavalette — 
who was aware that the dwelling of the Duchess of St. 
Leu was no longer watched by the police, who had dis- 


270 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


covered that the duchess was no longer there — Lavalette 
took advantage of this circumstance, and concealed him- 
self in her dwelling, and M. de Dandre, the chief of 
police, who had vainly endeavored to catch the so-called 
conspirators, exclaimed in anguish : “ It is impossible to 
find any one ; it has been so much noised about that these 
Bonapartists were to be arrested, that they are now all 
hidden away.” 

Like a bombshell the news suddenly burst upon the 
anxious and doubting capital : “ The emperor has been 
received by the people in Grenoble with exultation, and 
the troops that were to have been led against him have, 
together with their chieftain, Charles de Labedoyere, 
gone over to the emperor. The gates of the city were 
thrown open, and the people advanced to meet him with 
shouts of welcome and applause ; and now Napoleon 
stood no longer at the head of a little body of troops, but 
at the head of a small army that was increasing with 
every hour.” 

The government still endeavored, through its officials 
and through the public press, to make the Parisians dis- 
believe this intelligence. 

But the government had lost faith in itself. It heard 
the old, the hated cry, “ Yive l’empereur ! ” resounding 
through the air ; it heard the fluttering of the victorious 
battle-flags of Marengo, Areola, Jena, and Austerlitz ! 
The Emperor Napoleon was still the conquering hero, 
who swayed destiny and compelled it to declare for him. 

A perfect frenzy of dismay took possession of the 


NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA. 


271 


royalists ; and when they learned that Napoleon had 
already arrived in Lyons, that its inhabitants had received 
him with enthusiasm, and that its garrison had also de- 
clared for him, their panic knew no bounds. 

The royalist leaders assembled at the house of Count 
de la Pere, for the purpose of holding a last great dis- 
cussion and consultation. The most eminent persons, 
men and women, differing widely on other subjects, but 
a unit on this point, assembled here with the same feel- 
ings of patriotic horror, and with the same desire to pro- 
mote the general welfare. There were Madame de Stael, 
Benjamin Constant, Count Laine, and Chateaubriand ; 
there were the Duke de Nemours, and Count de la Pere, 
and around them gathered the whole troop of anxious 
royalists, expecting and hoping that the eloquent lips of 
these celebrated personages who stood in their midst 
would give them consolation and new life. 

Benjamin Constant spoke first. He said that, to Na- 
poleon, that is, to force, force must be opposed. Bona- 
parte was armed with the love of the soldiers, they must 
arm themselves with the love of the citizens. His ap- 
pearance was imposing, like the visage of Caesar ; it 
w r ould be necessary to oppose to him an equally sublime 
countenance. Lafayette should, therefore, be made com- 
mander-in-chief of the French army. 

M. de Chateaubriand exclaimed, with noble indigna- 
tion, that the first step to be taken by the government 
was to punish severely a ministry that was so short- 
sighted, and had committed so many faults. Laine de- 


272 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


dared, with a voice tremulous with emotion, that all was 
lost, and that but one means of confounding tyranny re- 
mained ; a 6cene, portraying the wdiole terror, dismay, 
and grief of the capital at the approach of the hated 
enemy, should be arranged. In accordance with this 
plan, the whole population of Paris — the entire National 
Guard, the mothers, the young girls, the children, the 
old and the young — were to pass out of the city, and 
await the tyrant; and this aspect of a million of men 
fleeing from the face of a single human being was to 
move or terrify him who came to rob them of their 
peace ! 

In her enthusiastic and energetic manner, Madame de 
Stael pronounced an anathema against the usurper who 
was about to kindle anew, in weeping, shivering France, 
the flames of war. 

All were touched, enthusiastic, and agitated, but they 
could do nothing but utter fine phrases ; and all that fell 
from the eloquent lips of these celebrated poets and poli- 
ticians was, as it were, nothing more than a bulletin con- 
cerning the condition of the patient, and concerning the 
mortal wounds which he had received. This patient was 
France ; and the royalists, who were assembled in the 
house of Count de la Pere, now felt that the patient’s 
case was hopeless, and that nothing remained to them but 
to go into exile, and bemoan his sad fate ! * 

* Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. i., p. 99. 


LOUIS’S DEPARTURE AND NAPOLEON’S ARRIVAL. 273 


CHAPTEK XI. 

LOUIS XVIII.’s DEPARTURE AND NAPOLEON^ ARRIVAL. 

While the royalists were thus considering, hesitating, 
and despairing, King Louis XVIII. had alone retained 
his composure and sense of security. That is to say, 
they had taken care not to inform him of the real state of 
affairs. On the contrary, he had been informed that Bo- 
naparte had been everywhere received with coldness and 
silence, and that the army would not respond to his ap- 
peal, but would remain true to the king. The exultation 
with which the people everywhere received the advancing 
emperor found, therefore, no echo in the Tuileries, and 
the crowd who pressed around the king when he repaired 
to the hall of the Corps Lfyislatif to hold an encouraging 
address, was not the people, but the royalists — those 
otherwise so haughty ladies and gentlemen of the old 
nobility, who again, as on the day of the first entrance, 
acted the part to which the people were not disposed to 
adapt themselves, and transformed themselves for a mo- 
ment into the people, in order to show to the king the 
demonstrations of his people’s love. 

The king was completely deceived. M. de Blaca6 
told the king of continuous reverses to Napoleon’s arms, 
while the emperor’s advance was in reality a continuous 
triumph. They had carried this deception so far that 
they had informed the king that Lyons had closed its 
gates to Napoleon, and that Key was advancing to meet 


274 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


him, vowing that he would bring the emperor back to 
Paris in an iron cage. 

The king was therefore composed, self-possessed, and 
resolute, when suddenly his brother, the Count d’ Artois, 
and the Duke of Orleans, who, according to the king’s 
belief, occupied Lyons as a victor, arrived in Paris alone, 
as fugitives, abandoned by their soldiers and servants, 
and informed Louis that Lyons had received the emperor 
with open arms, and that no resource had been left them 
but to betake themselves to flight. 

And a second, and still more terrible, item of intelli- 
gence followed the first. Ney, the king’s hope, the last 
support of his tottering throne, ISTey had not had the 
heart to maintain a hostile position toward his old com- 
panion in arms. Ney had gone over to the emperor, and 
his army had followed him with exultation. 

The king’s eyes were now opened, he now saw the 
truth, and learned how greatly he had been deceived. 

“ Alas,” cried he, sadly, “ Bonaparte fell because he 
would not listen to the truth, and I shall fall because 
they would not tell me the truth ! ” 

At this moment, and while the king was eloquently 
appealing to his brothers and relatives, and to the gentle- 
men of his court who surrounded him, to tell him the 
whole truth, the door opened, and the Minister Blacas, 
until then so complacent, so confident of victory, now 
stepped in pale and trembling. 

The truth, which he had so long concealed from the 
king, was now plainly impressed on his pale, terrified 


LOUIS’S DEPARTURE AND NAPOLEON’S ARRIVAL. 275 

countenance. The king had desired to hear the truth ; 
it stood before him in his trembling minister. 

A short interval of profound silence occurred; the 
eyes of all were fastened on the count, and, in the midst 
of the general silence, he was heard to say, in a voice 
choked with emotion : “ Sire, all is lost ; the army, as 
well as the people, betray your majesty. It will be 
necessary for your majesty to leave Paris.” 

The king staggered backward for an instant, and 
then fastened an inquiring glance on the faces of all 
who were present. No one dared to return his gaze 
with a glance of hope. They all looked down sorrow- 
fully. 

The king understood this mute reply, and a deep 
sigh escaped his breast. 

“ The tree bears its fruit,” said he, with a bitter 
smile ; “ heretofore it has been your purpose to make me 
govern for you, hereafter I shall govern for no one. If 
I shall, however, return to the throne of my fathers once 
more, you will be made to understand that I will profit 
by the experience you have given me ! ” * 

A few hours later, at nightfall, supported on the arm 
of Count Blacas, without any suite, and preceded by a 
single lackey bearing a torch, the king left the once more 
desolate and solitary Tuileries, and fled to Holland. 

Twenty-four hours later, on the evening of the 20th 
of March, Napoleon entered the Tuileries, accompanied 

* The king’s own words. Memoires d’une Femme de Qualite, vol. 
i., p. 156. 


276 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


by the exalting shouts of the people, and the thundering 
44 Vive Vempereur ” of the troops. On the same place 
where the white flag of the Bourbons had but yesterday 
fluttered, the tricolore of the empire now flung out its 
folds to the breeze. 

In the Tuileries the emperor found all his old minis- 
ters, his generals, and his courtiers, assembled. All were 
desirous of seeing and greeting him. An immense con- 
course of people surged around the entrance on the stair- 
ways and in the halls. 

Borne aloft on the arms and shoulders of the people, 
the emperor was carried up the stairway, and into his 
apartments ; and, while shouts of joy were resounding 
within, the thousands without joined the more fortunate 
ones who had borne the emperor to his apartments, and 
rent the air with exulting cries of 44 Vive Vempereur ! ” 

In his cabinet, to which Napoleon immediately re- 
paired, he was received by Queen Julia, wife of Joseph 
Bonaparte, and Queen Hortense, who had abandoned her 
place of concealment, and hurried to the Tuileries to 
salute the emperor. 

Napoleon greeted Hortense coldly, he inquired briefly 
after the health of her sons, and then added, almost se- 
verely : 44 You have placed my nephews in a false posi- 
tion, by permitting them to remain in the midst of my 
enemies.” 

Hortense turned pale, and her eyes filled with tears. 
The emperor seemed not to notice it. 44 You have ac- 
cepted the friendship of my enemies,” said he, 44 and 


THE HUNDRED DAYS. 


277 


have placed yourself under obligations to the Bourbons. 
I depend on Eugene ; I hope he will soon be here. I 
wrote to him from Lyons.” 

This was the reception Hortense received from the 
emperor. He was angry with her for having remained in 
France, and at the same time the flying Bourbons, who 
were on their way to Holland, said of her : “ The Duch- 
ess of St. Leu is to blame for all ! Her intrigues alone 
have brought Napoleon back to Paris.” 


CHAPTEK XII. 

THE HUNDRED DAYS. 

The hundred days that followed the emperor’s return 
are like a myth of the olden time, like a poem of Homer, 
in which heroes destroy worlds with a blow of the hand, 
and raise armies out of the ground with a stamp of the 
foot ; in which nations perish, and new ones are born 
within the space of a minute. 

These hundred days stand in history as a giant era, 
and these hundred days of the restored empire were re- 
plete with all the earth can offer of fortune, of magnifi- 
cence, of glory, and of victory, as well as of all that the 
earth contains that is disgraceful, miserable, traitorous, 
and perfidious. 

Wondrous and brilliant was their commencement. 
All France seemed to hail the emperor’s return with ex- 


278 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ultation. Every one hastened to assure him of his un- 
changeable fidelity, and to persuade him that they had 
only obeyed the Bourbons under compulsion. 

The old splendor of the empire once more prevailed 
in the Tuileries, where the emperor now held his glitter- 
ing court again. There was, however, this difference : 
Queen Hortense now did the honors of the court, in the 
place of the Empress Marie Louise, who had not re- 
turned with her husband ; and the emperor could not 
now show the people his own son, but could only point 
to his two nephews, the sons of Hortense. 

The emperor had quickly reconciled himself to the 
queen ; he had been compelled to yield to her gentle and 
yet decided explanations ; he had comprehended that 
Hortense had sacrificed herself for her children, in con- 
tinuing to remain in France notwithstanding her reluc- 
tance. After this reconciliation had taken place, Hapo- 
leon extended his hand to Hortense, with his irresistible 
smile, and begged her to name a wish, in order that he 
might fulfil it. 

Queen Hortense, who had been so bitterly slandered 
and scorned by the royalists, and who was still considered 
by the fleeing Bourbons to be the cause of their over- 
throw — this same queen now entreated the emperor to 
permit the Duchess d’ Orleans, who had not been able to 
leave Paris on account of a broken limb, to remain, and 
to accord her a pension besides. She told the emperor 
that she had received a letter from the duchess, in which 
she begged for her intercession in obtaining some assist- 


THE HUNDRED DAYS. 279 

ance from the emperor, assuring her that it was urgently 
needed, in her depressed circumstances. 

The emperor consented to grant this wish of his step- 
daughter Ilortense ; and it was solely at her solicitation 
that Napoleon accorded a pension of four hundred thou- 
sand francs to the Duchess d’Orleans, the mother of King 
Louis Philippe.* 

A few days later, at Horten se’s request, a pension of 
two hundred thousand francs was also accorded to the 
Duchess of Bourbon, who had also besought the queen 
to exert her influence in her behalf ; and both ladies now 
hastened to assure Hortense of their everlasting grati- 
tude. The fulfilment of her wish filled Hortense with 
delight ; she was as proud of it as of a victory achieved. 

“ I considered it a sacred duty,” said she, “ to inter- 
cede for these ladies. They were as isolated and desolate 
as I had been a few days before, and I know how sad it 
is to be in such a state ! ” 

But Hortense’ s present state was a very different one. 
She was now no longer the Duchess of St. Leu, but the 
queen and the ornament of the court once more ; all heads 
now bowed before her again, and the high-born ladies, who 
had seemed oblivious of her existence during the past 
year, now hastened to do homage to the queen. 

“Majesty,” said one of these ladies to the queen, 
“ unfortunately, you were always absent in the country 
when I called to pay my respects during the past winter.” 

* La Reine Hortense en Italie, en France, et en Angleterre. Ecrit 
par elle-merae, p. 185. 


280 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


The queen’s only response was a gentle “ Indeed, 
madame,” which she accompanied with a smile. 

Hortense, as has before been said, was now again the 
grand point of attraction at court, and, at Napoleon’s 
command, the public officials now also hastened to solicit 
the honor of an audience, in order to pay their respects 
to the emperor’s step-daughter. Each day beheld new 
fetes and ceremonies. 

The most sublime and imposing of all these was the 
ceremony of the Champ de Mai , that took place on the 
first of June, and at which the emperor, in the presence 
of the applauding populace, presented to his army the 
new eagles and flags, which they were henceforth to 
carry into battle instead of the lilies of the Bourbons. 

It was a wondrous, an enchanting spectacle to behold 
the sea of human beings that surged to and fro on this 
immense space, and made the welkin ring with their 
“ Vive Vempereur ! ” — to behold the proud, triumphant 
soldiers receiving from Napoleon the eagles consecrated 
by the priests at the altar that stood before the emperor. 
It was a wondrous spectacle to behold the hundreds of 
richly-attired ladies glittering with diamonds, who occu- 
pied the tiers of seats that stood immediately behind the 
emperor’s chair, and on which Hortense and her two 
sons occupied the first seats. 

The air was so balmy, the sun shone so lustriously 
over all this splendor and magnificence, the cannon thun- 
dered so mightily, and the strains of music resounded so 
sweetly on the ear ; and, while all were applauding and 


THE HUNDRED DAYS. 


281 


rejoicing, Hortense sat behind the emperor’s chair cov- 
ertly sketching the imposing scene that lay before her, 
the grand ceremony, which, a dark foreboding told her, 
“ might perhaps be the last of the empire.” * 

Hortense alone did not allow herself to be deceived 
by this universal delight and contentment. 

The heavens still seemed bright and serene overhead, 
but she already perceived the gathering clouds, she al- 
ready heard the mutterings of the storm that was soon, 
and this time forever, to hurl the emperor’s throne to 
the ground. She knew that a day would suddenly come 
when all this brightness would grow dim, and when all 
those who now bowed so humbly before him, w^ould turn 
from him again — a day when they would deny and de- 
sert the emperor as they had already done once before, 
and that, from that day on, the present period of grand- 
eur would be accounted to her as a debt. But this knowl- 
edge caused her neither anxiety nor embarrassment. 

The emperor was once more there ; he was the lord 
and father left her by her mother Josephine, and it was 
her duty and desire to be true and obedient to him as 
long as she lived. 

The sun still shone lustrously over the restored em- 
pire, and in the parlors of Queen Hortense, where the 
diplomats, statesmen, artists, and all the notables of the 
empire were in the habit of assembling, gayety reigned 
supreme. There music and literature were discussed, and 
homage done to all the fine arts. 


* Cochelet, vol. iii., p. 97. 


282 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Benjamin Constant, who had with great rapidity 
transformed himself from an enthusiastic royalist into 
an imperial state-councillor, came to the queen’s parlors 
and regaled her guests by reading to them his romance 
Adolphe; and Metternich, the Austrian ambassador, 
seemed to have no other destiny than to amuse the queen 
and the circle of ladies assembled around them, and to 
invent new social games for their entertainment. 

Metternich knew how to bring thousands of charming 
little frivolities into fashion ; he taught the ladies the 
charming and poetic language of flowers, and made it a 
symbolic means of conversation and correspondence in 
the queen’s circle. He also, to the great delight of the 
court, invented the alphabet of gems ; in this alphabet 
each gem represented its initial letter, and, by combina- 
tions, names and devices were formed, which were worn 
in necklaces, bracelets, and rings. 

The little games with which the diplomatic Metter- 
nich occupied himself during the hundred days at the im- 
perial court at Paris, were, it appears, of the most innocent 
and harmless nature. 


CHAPTEK XIII. 
napoleon’s last adieu. 

The storm, of the approach of which Queen Hortense 
had so long had a foreboding, was preparing to burst over 
France. All the princes of Europe who had once been 
Napoleon’s allies had now declared against him. They 


NAPOLEON’S LAST ADIEU. 


283 


all refused to acknowledge Napoleon as emperor, or to 
treat with him as one having any authority. 

“ No peace, no reconciliation with this man,” wrote 
the Emperor Alexander to Pozzo di Borgo ; “ all Europe 
is of the same opinion concerning him. With the excep- 
tion of this man, any thing they may demand ; no prefer- 
ence for any one ; no war after this man shall have been 
set aside.” * 

But, in order to “ set this man aside,” war was neces- 
sary. The allied armies therefore advanced toward the 
boundaries of France ; the great powers declared war 
against France, or rather against the Emperor Napoleon ; 
and France, which had so long desired peace, and had 
only accepted the Bourbons because it hoped to obtain 
it of them, France was now compelled to take up the 
gauntlet. 

On the 12th of June the emperor left Paris with his 
army, in order to meet the advancing enemy. Napoleon 
himself, who had hitherto gone into battle, his counte- 
nance beaming with an assurance of victory, now looked 
gloomy and dejected, for he well knew that on the fate 
of his army now depended his own, and the fate of 
France. 

This time it was not a question of making conquests, 
but of saving the national independence, and it was the 
mother-earth, red with the blood of her children, that was 
now to be defended. 

Paris, that for eighty days had been the scene of splen- 


19 


* Cochelet, vol. iii., p. 90. 


284 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


dor and festivity, now put on its mourning attire. All 
rejoicings were at an end, and every one listened hope- 
fully to catch the first tones of the thunder of a victorious 
battle. 

But the days of victory were over ; the cannon thun- 
dered, the battle was fought, but instead of a triumph it 
was an overthrow. 

At Waterloo, the eagles that had been consecrated on 
the first of June, on the Champ de Mai , sank in the dust ; 
the emperor returned to Paris, a fugitive, and broken 
down in spirit, while the victorious allies were approach- 
ing the capital. 

At the first intelligence of his return, Hortense has- 
tened to the Elysee, where he had taken up his residence, 
to greet him. During the last few days she had been a 
prey to gloomy thoughts ; now that the danger had 
come, now when all were despairing, she was composed, 
resolute, and ready to stand at the emperor’s side to the 
last. 

Napoleon was lost, and Hortense knew it; but he 
now had most need of friends, and she remained true, 
while so many of his nearest friends and relatives were 
deserting him. 

On the twenty-second day of June the emperor sent 
in his abdication in favor of his son, the King of Borne, 
to the chambers ; and a week later the chambers pro- 
claimed Napoleon’s son Emperor of France, under the 
name of Napoleon II. 

But this emperor was a child of four years, and was, 


NAPOLEON’S LAST ADIEU. 


285 


moreover, not in France, bnt in the custody of the Em- 
peror of Austria, whose army was now marching on Paris 
with hostile intent ! 

Napoleon, now no longer Emperor of France, had 
been compelled to take the crown from his head a second 
time ; and for the second time he quitted Paris to await 
the destiny to be appointed him by the allies. 

This time he did not repair to Fontainebleau, but to 
Malmaison — to Malmaison, that had once been Jose- 
phine’s paradise, and where her heart had at last bled to 
death. This charming resort had passed into the posses- 
sion of Queen Hortense ; and Napoleon, who but yester- 
day had ruled over a whole empire, and to-day could call 
nothing, not even the space of ground on which he stood, 
his own, Napoleon asked Hortense to receive him at Mal- 
maison. 

Hortense accorded his request joyfully, and, when her 
friends learned this, and in their dismay and anxiety con- 
jured her not to identify in this , manner herself and chil- 
dren with the fate of the emperor, but to consider well 
the danger that would result from such a course, the 
queen replied resolutely : “ That is an additional reason 
for holding firm to my determination. I consider it my 
sacred duty to remain true to the emperor to the last, and 
the greater the danger that threatens the emperor, the 
happier I shall be in having it in my power to show him 
my entire devotion and gratitude.” 

And when, in this decision, when her whole future 
hung in the balance, one of her most intimate lady-friends 


286 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ventured to remind the queen of the disgraceful and ma- 
licious reports that had once been put in circulation with 
regard to her relation to Napoleon, and suggested that 
she would give new strength to them by now receiving 
the emperor at Malmaison, Hortense replied with dignity : 
“ What do I care for these calumnies ? I fulfil the duty 
imposed on me by feeling and principle. The emperor 
has always treated me as his child ; I shall therefore ever 
remain his devoted and grateful daughter ; it is my first 
and greatest necessity to be at peace with myself.” * 

Hortense therefore repaired with the emperor to Mal- 
maison, and the faithful, who were not willing to leave 
him in his misfortune, gathered around him, watched 
over his life, and gave to his residence a fleeting reflection 
of the old grandeur and magnificence. For they who 
now stood around Napoleon, guarding his person from 
any immediate danger that threatened him at the hands 
of fanatic enemies or hired assassins, were marshals, gen- 
erals, dukes, and princes. 

But Napoleon’s fate was already decided — it was an 
inevitable one, and when the intelligence reached Mal- 
maison that the enemy was approaching nearer and nearer, 
and that resistance was no longer made anywhere, and 
when Napoleon saw that all was lost, his throne, his crown, 
and even the love which he imagined he had for ever 
built up for himself in the hearts of the French people 
by his great deeds and victories — when he saw this he 
determined to fly, no matter whither, but away from the 


Cochelet, vol. iii., p. 149. 


NAPOLEON’S LAST ADIEU. 287 

France that would no longer rally to his call, the France 
that had abandoned him. 

The emperor resolved to fly to Rochefort, and to em- 
bark there in order to return to Elba. The provisional 
government that had established itself in Paris, and had 
sent an ambassador to Napoleon at Malmaison with the 
demand that he should depart at once, now instructed 
this ambassador to accompany the emperor on his journey, 
and not to leave him until he should have embarked. 

Napoleon was ready to comply with this demand. 
He determined to depart on the afternoon of the 30th of 
June. He had nothing more to do but to take leave of 
his friends and family. He did this with cold, tearless 
composure, with an immovable, iron countenance ; no 
muscle of his face quivered, and his glance was severe 
and imperious. 

But, when Hortense brought in her two sons, when 
he had clasped them in his arms for the last time, then a 
shadow passed over his countenance ; then his pale com- 
pressed lips quivered, and he turned away to conceal the 
tears that stood in his eyes. 

But Hortense had seen them, and in her heart she 
preserved the remembrance of these tears as the most 
precious gem of her departed fortune. As the emperor 
then turned to her to bid her adieu in his former cold 
and immovable manner, Hortense, who well knew that a 
volcano of torments must be glowing under this cold 
lava, entreated him to grant her a last favor. 

A painful smile illumined the emperor’s countenance 


288 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


for a moment. There was, it seemed, still something 
that he could grant ; he was not altogether powerless ! 
With a mute inclination of the head he signified his as- 
sent. Hortense handed him a broad black belt. 

“ Sire,” said she, “ wear this belt around your body 
and beneath your clothing. Conceal it carefully, but in 
the time of necessity remember it and open it.” 

The emperor took the belt in his hand, and its weight 
startled him. 

“ What does it contain ? ” asked he : “ I must know 
what it contains ! ” 

“ Sire,” said Hortense, blushing and hesitating : u Sire, 
it is my large diamond necklace that I have taken apart 
and sewed in this belt. Your majesty may need money 
in a critical moment, and you will not deny me this last 
happiness, your acceptance of this token.” 

The emperor refused, but Hortense entreated him so 
earnestly that he was at last compelled to yield, and accept 
this love-offering. 

They then took a hasty and mute leave of each other, 
and Hortense, in order to hide her tears, hastened with 
her children from the room. 

The emperor summoned a servant, and ordered that 
no one else should be admitted ; but at this moment the 
door was hastily thrown open, and a national guard en- 
tered the room. 

Talma ! ” exclaimed the emperor, almost gayly, as 
he extended his hand. 

Yes, Talma, sire,” said he, pressing the emperor’s 


NAPOLEON’S LAST ADIEU. 


289 


hand to his lips. “ I disguised myself in this dress, in 
order that I might get here to take leave of your 
majesty.” 

“ To take leave, never to see each other more,” said 
the emperor, sadly. “ I shall never be able to admire 
you in your great rdles again, Talma. I am about to de- 
part, never to return again. You will play the emperor 
on many an evening, but not I, Talma ! My part is at 
an end ! ” 

“No, sire, you will always remain the emperor ! ” ex- 
claimed Talma, with generous enthusiasm ; “ the emperor, 
although without the crown and the purple robe.” 

“ And also the emperor without a people,” said Na- 
poleon. 

“ Sire, you have a people that will ever remain yours, 
and a throne that is imperishable ! It is the throne that 
you have erected for yourself on the battle-fields, that 
w r ill be recorded in the books of history. And every one, 
no matter to what nation he may belong, who reads of 
your great deeds, will be inspired by them, and will ac- 
knowledge himself to be one of your people, and bow 
down before the emperor in reverence.” 

“ I have no people,” murmured Napoleon, gloomily ; 
“ they have all deserted — all betrayed me, Talma ! ” 

“ Sire, they will some day regret, as Alexander of Rus- 
sia will also one day regret, having deserted the great man 
he once called brother ! ” And, in his delicate and gen- 
erous endeavor to remind Napoleon of one of his mo- 
ments of grandeur, Talma continued : “ Your majesty 


290 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


perhaps remembers that evening at Tilsit, when the Em- 
peror of Russia made you so tender a declaration of his 
love, publicly and before the whole world ? But no, you 
cannot remember it ; for you it was a matter of no mo- 
ment ; but I — I shall never forget it ! It was at the the- 
atre ; we were playing ‘ (Edipus.’ I looked up at the box 
in which your majesty sat, between the King of Prussia 
and the Emperor Alexander. I could see you only — the 
second Alexander of Macedon, the second Julius Caesar 
— and I held my arms aloft and saw you only when I re- 
peated the words of my part : ‘ The friendship of a great 
man is a gift of the gods ! ’ And as I said this, the Em- 
peror Alexander arose and pressed you to his heart. I 
saw this, and tears choked my utterance. The audience 
applauded rapturously ; this applause was, however, not 
for me, but for the Emperor Alexander ! ” * 

While Talma was speaking, his cheeks glowing and 
his eyes flashing, a rosy hue suffused the emperor’s coun- 
tenance, and, for an instant, he smiled. Talma had at- 
tained his object ; he had raised up the humiliated em- 
peror with the recital of his own grandeur. 

Napoleon thanked him with a kindly glance, and ex- 
tended his hand to bid him adieu. 

As Talma approached the emperor, a carriage was 
heard driving up in front of the house. It was Letitia, 
the emperor’s mother, who had come to take leave of her 
son. Talma stood still, in breathless suspense ; in his 

* This scene is entirely historical. See Bossuet. Memoires ; Bour- 
rienne, Memoires ; Cochelet and Une Femme de Qualite. 


NAPOLEON’S LAST ADIEU. 


291 


heart he thanked Providence for permitting him to wit- 
ness this leave-taking. 

“Madame mere” walked past Talma in silence, and 
without observing him. She saw only her son, who 
stood in the middle of the room, his sombre and flashing 
glance fastened on her with an unutterable expression. 
Now they stood face to face, mother and son. The em- 
peror’s countenance remained immovable as though hewn 
out of marble. 

They stood face to face in silence, but two great tears 
slowly trickled down the mother’s cheeks. Talma stood 
in the background, weeping bitterly. Napoleon remained 
unmoved. Letitia now raised both hands and extended 
them to the emperor. “ Adieu, my son ! ” said she, in 
full and sonorous tones. 

Napoleon pressed her hands in his own, and gazed at 
her long and fixedly ; and then, with the same firmness, 
he said : “ My mother, adieu ! ” 

Once more they gazed at each other ; then the em- 
peror let her hand fall. Letitia turned to go, and at this 
moment General Bertrand appeared at the door to an- 
nounce that all was prepared for the journey.* 

* This leave-taking was exactly as above described, and Talma 
himself narrated it to Louise de Cochelet. See her Memoires, vol. iii., 
p. 173. 


BOOK IV. 


THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE BANISHMENT OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 

For tlie second time, the Bourbons had entered Paris 
under the protection of the allies, and Louis XYIII. was 
once more King of France. But this time he did not 
return with his former mild and conciliatory disposition. 
He came to punish and to reward ; he came unaccom- 
panied by mercy. The old generals and marshals of the 
empire, who had not been able to resist their chieftain’s 
call, were now banished, degraded, or executed. Key 
and Labedoyere paid for their fidelity to the emperor 
with their blood ; and all who were in any way connected 
with the Bonapartes were relentlessly pursued. The cal- 
umnies that had been circulated in 1814 against the 
Duchess of St. Leu were now to bear bitter fruit. These 
were the dragon’s teeth from which the armed warriors 
had sprung, who now levelled their swords at the breast 
of a defenceless woman. 

King Louis had returned to the throne of his fathers, 


THE BANISHMENT OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 293 

but lie had not forgotten that he had been told on his 
flight : “ The Duchess of St. Leu is to blame for all ! 
Her intrigues have brought Napoleon back ! ” Now that 
he was again king, he thought of it, and determined to 
punish her. He requested it of Alexander, as a favor, 
that he should this time not call on the Duchess of St. 
Leu. 

The emperor, dismayed by the odious reports in cir- 
culation concerning Hortense, and already enchained in 
the mystic glittering web with which Madame de Krii- 
dener had enveloped him, and separated from the reality 
of the world, acceded to the wishes of the Bourbons, and 
abandoned the queen. This was the signal that let loose 
the general wrath of the royalists ; they could now freely 
utter their scorn and malice. By low calumnies they 
could now compensate themselves for their humiliation 
of the past, for having been compelled to approach the 
daughter of Viscountess de Beauharnais with the rever- 
ence due to a queen. 

They could pursue the step-daughter of the emperor 
with boundless fury, for this very fury proved their roy- 
alism, and to hate and calumniate Bonaparte and his 
family was to love and flatter the Bourbons. 

Day by day these royalists hurled new accusations 
against the duchess, whose presence in Paris unpleasantly 
recalled the days of the empire, and whom they desired to 
remove from their sight, as well as the column on the 
Place Vendome. 

While the poor queen was living in the retirement of 


294 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


her apartments, in sadness and desolation,' the report was 
circulated that she was again conspiring, and that she was 
in the habit of leaving her house every evening at twi- 
light, in order to incite the populace to rise and demand 
the emperor’s return, or at least the instalment of the 
little Kins: of Home on the throne instead of Louis de 
Bourbon. 

When the queen’s faithful companion, Louise de 
Cochelet, informed her of these calumnies, Hortense re- 
mained cold and indifferent. 

“Madame,” exclaimed Louise, “you listen with as 
much composure as if I were reciting a story of the last 
century ! ” 

“And it interests me as little,” said Hortense, ear- 
nestly ; “ we have lost all, and I consider any blow that 
may still strike us, with the composure of an indifferent 
spectator. I consider it natural that they should endeavor 
to caluminate me, because I bear a name that has made 
the whole world tremble, and that w T ill still be great, 
though we all be trodden in the dust. But I will shield 
myself and children from this hatred. We will leave 
France and go to Switzerland, where I possess a little es- 
tate on the Lake of Geneva.” 

But time was not allowed the duchess to prepare for 
her departure. The dogs of calumny and hatred were 
let loose upon her to drive her from the city. A defence- 
less woman with two young children seemed to be an ob- 
ject of anxiety and terror to the government, and it made 
haste to get rid of her. 


THE BANISHMENT OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 295 

On the morning of the 17th of July, an adjutant of 
the Prussian General de Muffling, the allied commandant 
of Paris, came to the dwelling of the Duchess of St. Leu, 
and informed her intendant, M. Deveaux, that the duchess 
must leave Paris within two hours, and it was’ only at the 
urgent solicitation of the intendant, that a further sojourn 
of four hours was allowed her. 

Hortense was compelled to conform to this military 
command, and depart without arranging her affairs or 
making any preparations for her journey. Her only pos- 
session consisted of jewelry, and this she of course in- 
tended to take with her. But she was w r arned that a 
troop of enraged Bourbonists, who knew of her approach- 
ing departure, had quitted Paris to lie in wait for her on 
her road, “ in order to rob her of the millions in her cus- 
tody.” 

The queen was warned to take no money or articles of 
value with her, but only that which was absolutely neces- 
sary. 

General de Muffling offered her an escort of his sol- 
diers ; Hortense declined this offer, but requested that an 
Austrian officer might be allowed to accompany her for 
the protection of herself and children on the journey. 
Count de Boyna, adjutant of Prince Schwartzenberg, was 
selected for this purpose. 

On the evening of the 17th of July, 1815, the Duch- 
ess of St. Leu took her departure. She left her faithful 
friend Louise de Cochelet in Paris to arrange her affairs, 
and assure the safe-keeping of her jewelry. Accompanied 


296 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


only by her equerry, M. de Marmold, Count Boyna, her 
children, her maid, and a man-servant, she who had been 
a queen left Paris to go into exile. 

It was a sorrowful journey that Hortense now made 
through her beloved France, that she could no longer call 
her country, and that now seemed as ill-disposed toward 
the emperor and his family as it had once passionately 
loved them. 

In these days of political persecution, the Bonapartists 
had everywhere hidden themselves in obscure places, or 
concealed their real disposition beneath the mask of Bour- 
bonisrn. Those whom Hortense met on her journey were 
therefore all royalists, who thought they could give no 
better testimony to their patriotism than by persecuting 
with cries of scorn, with gestures of hatred, and with loud 
curses, the woman whose only crime was that she bore the 
name of him whom France had once adored, and whom 
the royalists hated. 

Count Boyna was more than once compelled to pro- 
tect Hortense and her children against the furious attacks 
of royalists — the stranger against her own countrymen ! 
In Dijon, Count Boyna had found it necessary to call on 
the Austrian military stationed there for assistance in 
protecting the duchess and her children from the attacks 
of an infuriated crowd, led by royal guards and beautiful 
ladies of rank, whose hair was adorned with the lilies of 
the Bourbons.* 

Dispirited and broken down by all she had seen and 
* Cochelet, vol. iii., p. 289. 


THE BANISHMENT OF THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 297 

experienced, Hortense at last reached Geneva, happy at 
the prospect of being able to retire to her little estate of 
Pregny, to repose after the storms of life. But this ref- 
uge was also to be refused her. The French ambassador 
in Switzerland, who resided in Geneva, informed the 
authorities of that city that his government would not 
tolerate the queen’s sojourn so near the French bound- 
ary, and demanded that she should depart. The au- 
thorities of Geneva complied with this demand, and 
ordered the Duchess of St. Leu to leave the city im- 
mediately. 

When Count Boyna imparted this intelligence to the 
duchess, and asked her to wPat place she would now go, 
her long-repressed despair found utterance in a single 
cry : “ I know not. Throw me into the lake, then we 
shall all be at rest ! ” 

But she soon recovered her usual proud resignation, 
and quietly submitted to the new banishment that drove 
her from her last possession, the charming little Pregny, 
from her “ reve de chaletP 

In Aix she finally found repose and peace for a few 
weeks — in Aix, where she had once celebrated brilliant 
triumphs as a queen, and where she was at least permitted 
to live in retirement with her children and a few faithful 
adherents. 

But in Aix the most fearful blow that Fate had in 
store for her fell upon her ! 

Her action against her husband had already been de- 
cided in 1814, shortly before the emperor’s return, and it 


298 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


had been adjudged that she should deliver her elder son, 
Napoleon Louis, into the custody of his father. Now 
that Napoleon’s will no longer restrained him, Louis de- 
manded that this judgment be carried out, and sent Baron 
von Zuyten to Aix to bring back the prince to his father, 
then residing in Florence. 

The unhappy mother was now powerless to resist this 
hard command ; she was compelled to yield, and send her 
son from her arms to a father who was a stranger to the 
boy, and whom he therefore could not love. 

It was a heart-rending scene this parting between the 
boy, liis mother, and his young brother Louis, from whom 
he had never before been separated for a day, and who 
now threw his arms around his neck, tearfully entreating 
him to stay with him. 

But the separation was inevitable. Hortense parted 
the two weeping children, taking little Louis Napoleon 
in her arms, while Napoleon Louis followed his governor 
to the carriage, sobbing as though his heart would break. 
When Hortense heard the carriage driving off, she ut- 
tered a cry of anguish and fell to the ground in a swrnon, 
and a long and painful attack of illness was the conse- 
quence of this sorrowful separation. 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A CHILD. 


299 


CHAPTER II. 

LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A CHILD. 

The Duchess of St. Leu was, however, not destined 
to find repose in Aix ; the Bourbons — not yet weary of 
persecuting her, and still fearing the name whose first 
and greatest representative was now languishing on a 
solitary, inhospitable rock-island — the Bourbons con- 
sidered it dangerous that Hortense, the emperor’s step- 
daughter, and her son, whose name of Louis Hapoleon 
seemed to them a living monument of the past, should 
be permitted to sojourn so near the French boundary. 
They therefore instructed their ambassador to the govern- 
ment of Savoy to protest against the further sojourn of 
the queen in Aix, and Hortense was compelled to under- 
take a new pilgrimage, and to start out into the world 
again in search of a home. 

She first turned to Baden, whose duchess, Stephanie, 
was so nearly related to her, and from whose husband 
she might therefore well expect a kindly reception. But 
the* grand-duke did not justify his cousin’s hopes; he had 
not the courage to defy the jealous fears of France, and 
it was only at the earnest solicitation of his wife that he 
at last consented that Hortense should take up her resi- 
dence at the extreme end of the grand-duchy, at Con- 
stance, on the Lake of Constance ; and this permission 
was only accorded her on the express condition that 

neither the duchess nor her son should ever come to 
20 


300 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Car'lsruhe, and that his wife, Stephanie, should never 
visit her cousin at Constance. 

Hortense accepted this offer with its conditions, con- 
tented to find a place where she could rest after her long 
wanderings, and let the bleeding wounds of her heart 
heal in the stillness and peace of beautiful natural scen- 
ery. She passed a few quiet, happy years in Constance, 
desiring and demanding nothing but a little rest and 
peace, aspiring to but one thing — to make of the son, 
whom Providence had given her as a compensation for 
all her sufferings, a strong, a resolute, and an intelligent 
man. 

Her most tender care and closest attention were de- 
voted to the education of this son. An excellent teacher, 
Prof. Lebas, of Paris, officiated as instructor to the young 
prince. She herself gave him instruction in drawing, in 
music, and in dancing ; she read with him, sang with 
him, and made herself a child, in order to replace to 
her lonely boy the playmate Fate had torn from his 
side. 

While reposing on her chaise-longue on the long 
quiet evenings, her boy seated on a cushion at her feet, 
she would speak to him of his great uncle, and of his 
heroic deeds, and of his country, of France that had dis- 
carded them, to be able to return to which was, however, 
her most ardent wish, and would continue to be while 
life lasted. She would then inspire the boy’s soul with the 
description of the great battles which his uncle had won 
in Italy, on the Nile, on the Rhine, and on the Danube ; 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A CHILD. 


301 


and the quiet, pale boy, with the dark, thoughtful eyes, 
would listen in breathless suspense, his weak, slender 
body quivering with emotion when his mother told him 
how dearly liis uncle had loved France, and that all his 
great and glorious deeds had been done for the honor and 
renown of France alone. 

One day, while he was sitting before her, pale and 
trembling with agitation, his mother pointed to David’s 
splendid painting, representing Napoleon on the heights 
of the Alps, the genial conception of which painting is 
due to Napoleon’s own suggestions. 

“ Paint me tranquilly seated on a wild horse,” Napo- 
leon had said to David, and David had so painted him — 
on a rearing steed, on the summit of a rock which bears 
the inscription “ Hannibal ” and “ Caesar.” The em- 
peror’s countenance is calm, his large eyes full of a mys- 
terious brilliancy, his hair fluttering in the wind, the 
whole expression thoughtful and earnest ; the rider 
heedless of the rearing steed, which he holds firmly in 
check with the reins. 

A beautiful copy of this great painting hung in the 
parlor of the duchess ; and to this she now pointed while 
narrating the history of the emperor’s passage over the 
Great St. Bernard wdth an army, a feat never before per- 
formed except by Hannibal and Cassar, and perhaps never 
to be performed again. 

As she concluded her narrative, an almost angry ex- 
pression flitted across the young prince’s countenance. 
Rising from his seat, and holding himself perfectly erect, 


302 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


he exclaimed : “ Oh, mamma, I shall also cross the Alps 
some day, as the emperor did ! ” 

And while tlms speaking, a glowing color suffused 
his face ; his lips trembled, and the feverish beating of 
his heart was quite audible. 

Hortense turned in some anxiety to her friend Louise 
de Cochelet, and begged her in a low voice to soothe 
the child witli the recital of some merry narrative. As 
Louise looked around the room thoughtfully and searcli- 
ingly, a cup that stood on the mantel-piece arrested her 
gaze. She hastened to the mantel, took the cup, and 
returned with it to little Louis Napoleon. 

“ Mamma has been explaining a very grave picture 
to you, Louis,” said she ; “ I will now show you a merry 
one. Look at it — isn’t it charming ? ” 

The prince cast a hasty, absent-minded look at the 
cup, and nodded gravely. Louise laughed gayly. 

“You see, Louis,” said she, “that this is the exact 
counterpart of the picture of the Emperor Napoleon, 
who, while riding over the Alps, encounters on their 
summit the great spirits of Hannibal and Caesar. Here 
is a little Napoleon, who is not climbing up the Alps, 
but climbing down from his bed, and who, on this occa- 
sion, meets a black spirit, in the person of a chimney- 
sweep. This is the history of the great and of the little 
Napoleon ; the great meets Hannibal, the little the chim- 
ney-sweep.” 

“ Am I the little Napoleon ? ” asked the boy, gravely. 

“Yes, Louis, you are, and I will now tell you the 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A CHILD. 


303 


story of this cup. One day, when we were all still in 
Paris, and while your great uncle was still Emperor of 
France — one day, you met in your room a little Savoy- 
ard, who had just crept out of the chimney in his black 
dress, his black broom in his hand. You cried out with 
horror, and were about to run away, but I held you back 
and told you that these chimney-sw r eeps were poor boys, 
and that their parents were so poor that they could not 
support their children, but were compelled to send them 
to Paris to earn their bread by creeping into and clean- 
ing our hot and dirty chimneys, with great trouble, and 
at the risk of their lives. My story touched you, and 
you promised me never to be afraid of the little chimney- 
sweeps again. A short time afterward, you were awak- 
ened early in the morning by a strange noise, your broth- 
er still lay asleep at your side, and your nurse was absent 
from the room. This noise was made by a chimney- 
sweep who had just come down the chimney and now 
stood in your room. As soon as you saw him, you re- 
membered his poverty, jumped out of bed in your night- 
clothes, and ran to the chair on which your clothes lay. 
You took out of your pocket the purse you were com- 
pelled to carry with you on your walks to give money to 
the poor, and you emptied its entire contents into the 
black, sooty hand of the young Savoyard. You then 
tried to get back to bed, but it was too high for you; 
you could not climb over the railing. Seeing this, the 
chimney-sweep came to your assistance, and took the 
little prince in his arms to help him into bed. At this 


304 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


moment, your nurse entered the room, and your brother, 
who had just awakened, cried loudly when he saw Louis 
in the arms of a chimney-sweep. 

“ This is the story of little Napoleon and the chim- 
ney-sweep ! Your grandmother, the Empress Josephine, 
was so much pleased with this story, that your mother 
had the scene painted on a cup, and presented it to the 
empress, in order to afford her a gratification. And what 
do you think, Louis — this cup was also the cause of a 
punishment being remitted your cousin, the King of 
Home, who now lives in Yienna ! ” 

“ Tell me all about it, Louise,” said the prince, smiling. 

“ You shall hear it ! Your mother had instructed me 
to take the cup to Malmaison to the empress. But be- 
fore going, I endeavored to obtain some news about 
the little King of Borne for the empress. Your good 
grandmother loved him as though he had been her own 
child, although she had never seen him. I therefore 
went to the Tuileries to see the little King of Borne, 
with whose governess, Madame de Montesquieu, I was 
intimately acquainted. On entering the apartment, I 
saw the king cowering behind a chair in a corner of the 
room ; Madame de Montesquieu intimated by a look that 
he was undergoing a punishment ; I understood it, and 
first conversed with his governess for a short time. 
When I then turned and approached him, he concealed 
the tearful, flushed face, that his long blond curls covered 
as with a golden veil, whenever he moved behind the 
chair. 


LOUIS NAPOLEON AS A CHILD. 


305 


“ c Sire,’ said Madame de Montesquieu to him, 4 sire, 
do you not intend to bid Mademoiselle de Cochelet good- 
morning ? She came here expressly to see you.’ 

“ ‘ Your majesty does not recognize me,’ said I, at- 
tempting to take his small hand in mine. He tore it 
from me, and cried in a voice almost choked with sob- 
bing : £ She will not let me look at the soldiers of my papa ! ’ 

“ Madame de Montesquieu told me that it w r as the 
little prince’s greatest pleasure to see the Guards exercis- 
ing on the Place de Carrousel , but that she had deprived 
him of this pleasure to-day, because he had been naughty 
and disobedient ; that, when he heard the music and 
drums, his despair and anger had become so great that 
she had been forced to resort to severe means, and make 
him stand in the corner behind a chair. I begged for 
the young king’s pardon ; I showed him the cup, and 
explained the scene that was painted on it. The king 
laughed, and Madame de Montesquieu pardoned him for 
the sake of his little cousin, Louis Napoleon, who was so 
well behaved, and who was always held up to him as a 
model.* Now you have heard the whole story, are you 
pleased with it, Louis ? ” 

“ I like it very much,” said the grave boy, “ but I do 
not like my cousin’s governess, for having intended to 
prevent him from looking at his father’s soldiers. Oh, 
how handsome they must have been, the soldiers of the 
emperor ! Mamma, I wish I were also an emperor, and 
had ever so many handsome soldiers.” 


* Cochelet, vol. i., p. 212. 


306 


QUEEN IiORTENSE. 


Hortense smiled sadly, and laid lier hand on the boy’s 
head as if to bless him. “ Oh, my son,” said she, “ it is 
no enviable fortune to wear a crown. It is almost al- 
ways fastened on our head with thorns ! ” 

From this day on, Prince Louis Napoleon would 
stand before his uncle’s portrait, lost in thought, and, 
after looking at it to his satisfaction, he would run out 
and call the boys of the neighborhood together, in order 
to play soldier and emperor with them in the large gar- 
den that surrounded his mother’s house, and teach the 
boys the first exercise. 

One day, in the zeal of play, he had entirely forgotten 
his mother’s command, not to go out of the garden, and 
had marched into the open field with his soldiers. When 
his absence from the garden was noticed, all the servants 
were sent out to look for him, and the anxious duchess, 
together with her ladies, assisted in this search, walking 
about in every direction through the cold and the slush 
of the thawing snow. Suddenly they came upon the 
boy barefooted and in his shirt-sleeves, wading toward 
them through the mud and snow. He was alarmed and 
confused at this unexpected meeting, and confessed that 
a moment before, while he had been playing in front of 
the garden, a family had passed by so poor and ragged 
that it was painful to look at them. As he had no 
money to give them, he had put his shoes on one child, 
and his coat on another.* 

The duchess did not have the courage to scold him ; 


Cochelet, vol. iv., p. 303. 


THE REVOLUTION OF 1830. 


307 


she stooped down and kissed her son ; but when her ladies 
commenced to praise him, she motioned to them to be 
silent, and said in a loud voice that what her son had 
done was quite a matter of course, and therefore deserved 
no praise. 

An ardent desire to gladden others and make them 
presents was characteristic of little Louis Napoleon. One 
day, Hortense had given him three beautiful studs for his 
shirt, and on the same day the prince transferred them to 
one of his friends who admired them. 

When Hortense reproached her son for doing so, and 
threatened to make him no more presents, as he always 
gave them away again directly, Louis Napoleon replied, 
“ Ah, mamma, this is why your presents give me double 
pleasure — once when you give them to me, and the sec- 
ond time when I make others happy with them.’' * 


CHAPTER III. 

THE REVOLUTION OE 1830. 

Fate seemed at last weary of persecuting the poor 
Duchess of St. Leu. It at least accorded her a few peace- 
ful years of repose and comfort ; it at least permitted her 
to rest from the weariness of the past on the bosom of 
Nature, and to forget her disappointments and sorrows. 
The Canton of Thurgau had had the courage to extend 

* Cochelet, vol. i, p. 355. 


308 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


permission to tlie duchess to take up her residence within 
its borders, at the very moment when the Grand-duke of 
Baden, who had been urged to the step by Germany and 
France, had peremptorily ordered Hor tense to leave Con- 
stance and his grand-duchy without delay. 

Hortense had thankfully accepted the offer of the 
Swiss canton, and had purchased, on the Swiss side of the 
Lake of Constance, an estate, wdiose beautiful situation on 
the summit of a mountain, immediately on the banks of 
the lake, with its magnificent view of the surrounding 
country, and its glittering glaciers on the distant horizon, 
made it a most delightful place of sojourn. Hortense 
now caused the furniture of her dwelling in Paris, that 
had been sold, to be sent to her. The sight of these evi- 
dences of her former grandeur awakened sweet and bitter 
emotions in her heart, as they were one after another 
taken out of the cases in which they had been packed — 
these sofas, chairs, divans, carpets, chandeliers, mirrors, 
and all the other ornaments of the parlors in which Hor- 
tense had been accustomed to receive kings and emperors, 
and w r hich were now to adorn the Swiss villa that was 
outwardly so beautiful because of the vicinity, and in- 
wardly so plain and simple. 

But Hortense knew how to make an elegant and taste- 
ful disposition of all these articles ; she herself arranged 
every thing in her house, and took true feminine delight 
in her task. And when all was at last arranged — when 
she walked, with her son at her side, through the suite of 
rooms, in which every ornament and piece of furniture 


THE REVOLUTION OF 1830. 


309 


reminded her of the past — when these things recalled the 
proud days of state when so many friends, relatives, and 
servants, had surrounded her — a feeling of unutterable 
loneliness, of painful desolation, came over her, and she 
sank down on a sofa and wept bitterly. But there was 
nevertheless a consolation in having these familiar articles 
in her possession once more ; these mute friends often 
awakened in the solitary queen’s heart memories that 
served to entertain and console her. Arenenberg was a 
perfect temple of memory ; every chair, every table, 
every article of furniture, had its history, and this his- 
tory spoke of Napoleon, of Josephine, and the great days 
of the empire. 

In Arenenberg Hortense had at last found a perma- 
nent home, and there she passed the greater part of the 
year ; and it was only when the autumnal storms began 
to howl through her open and lightly-constructed villa, 
that Hortense repaired to Home, to pass the winter 
months in a more genial climate, while her son Louis 
Napoleon was pursuing his studies at the artillery school 
at Thun. 

And thus the years passed on, quiet and peaceful, 
though sometimes interrupted by new losses and sorrows. 
In the year 1821 the hero, the emperor, to whose laurel- 
crown the halo of a martyr had now also been added, died 
on the island-rock, St. Helena. 

In the year 1824 Hortense lost her only brother, Eu- 
gene, the Duke of Leuchtenberg. 

The only objects of Hortense’s love were now her 


310 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


two sons, who were prospering in mind and body, and 
were the pride and joy of their mother, and an object of 
annoyance and suspicion to all the princes of Europe. 
For these children bore in their countenance, in their 
name, and in their disposition, too plain an impress of 
the great past, which they could never entirely ignore 
while Bonaparte still lived to testify to it. 

And they lived and prospered in spite of the Bour- 
bons ; they lived and prospered, although banished from 
their country, and compelled to lead an inactive life. 

But at last it seemed as though the hour of. fortune 
and freedom had come for these Bonapartes — as though 
they, too, were to be permitted to have a country to which 
they might give their devotion and services. 

The thundering voice of the revolution of 1830 re- 
sounded throughout trembling Europe. France, on whom 
the allies had imposed the Bourbons, arose and shook its 
mane ; with its lion’s paw it overthrew the Bourbon 
throne, drove out the Jesuits who had stood behind it, 
and whom Charles X. had advised to tear the charter to 
pieces, to destroy the freedom of the press, and to rein- 
troduce the autos dafe of the olden time. 

France had been treated as a child in 1815, and was 
now determined to assert its manhood ; it resolved to 
break entirely with the past, and with its own strength 
to build up a future for itself. 

The lilies of the Bourbons were to bloom no more ; 
these last years of fanatical Jesuit tyranny had deprived 
them of life, and France tore the faded lily from her 


THE REVOLUTION OF 1830. 


311 


bosom in order to replace it with a young and vigorous 
plant. The throne of the Bourbons was overthrown, but 
the people, shuddering at the recollection of the sangui- 
nary republic, selected a king in preference. It stretched 
out its hand after him it held dearest ; after him who in 
the past few years had succeeded in winning the sym- 
pathy of France. It selected the Duke of Orleans, the 
son of Philippe figalite, for its king. 

Louis Philippe, the enthusiastic republican of 1790, 
who at that time had caused the three words “ Liberte , 
Egalite , Fraternite ,” and the inscription “ Vive la RS- 
jpublique” to be burnt on his arm, in order to prove his 
republicanism ; the proscribed Louis Philippe, who had 
wandered through Europe a fugitive, earning his bread 
by teaching writing and languages — the same Louis 
Philippe now became King of France. 

The people called him to the throne ; they tore the 
w r hite flag from the roof of the Tuileries, but they knew 
no other or better one with which to replace it than the 
tricolor e of the empire. 

Under the shadow of this tricolore Louis Philippe 
mounted the throne, and the people — to whom the three 
colors recalled the glorious era of the empire — the people 
shouted with delight, and in order to indulge their sym- 
pathies they demanded for France — not the son of Na- 
poleon, not Napoleon II. — but the ashes of Napoleon, 
and the emperor’s statue on the Palace Vendome. Louis 
Philippe accorded them both, but with these concessions 
he thought he had done enough. He had accepted the 


312 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tricolore of the empire ; he had promised that the em- 
peror should watch over Paris from the summit of the 
Vendome monument, and to cause his ashes to be brought 
to Paris — these were sufficient proofs of love. 

They might be accorded the dead Napoleon without 
danger, but it would be worse to accord them to living 
Napoleons ; such a course might easily shake the new 
throne, and recall the allies to Paris. 

The hatred of the princes of Europe against Napo- 
leon was still continued against his family, and it was 
with them, as Metternich said, “ a principle never to 
tolerate another Napoleon on the throne.” 

The European powers had signified to the King of 
France, through their diplomatic agents, their readiness to 
acknowledge him, but they exacted one condition — the 
condition that Louis Philippe should confirm or renew 
the decree of exile fulminated by the Bourbons against 
the Bonapartes. 

Louis Philippe had accepted this condition ; and the 
Bonapartes, w r hose only crime was that they were the 
brothers and relatives of the deceased emperor, before 
whom not only France, but all the princes of Europe, 
had once bent the knee — the Bonapartes were once more 
declared strangers to their country, and condemned to 
exile ! 


THE REVOLUTION IN ROME. 


313 


CHAPTER IY. 

THE REVOLUTION IN ROME, AND THE SONS OF HORTENSE. 

It was a terrible blow to the Bonapartes, this new 
decree of banishment ! Like a stroke of lightning it 
entered their hearts, annihilating their holiest hopes and 
most ardent desires, and their joy over the glorious and 
heroic revolution of July gave place to a bitter sense of 
disappointment. 

Nothing, therefore, remained for them but to con- 
tinue the life to which they had become somewhat ac- 
customed, and to console themselves, for their new dis- 
appointment, with the arts and sciences. 

At the end of October, in the year 1830, Horten se 
determined to leave Arenenberg and go to Home with 
her son, as she was in the habit of doing every year. 

But this time she first went to Florence, where her 
elder son, Napoleon Louis, recently married to his cousin, 
the second daughter of King Joseph, was now living 
with his young wife. The heart of the tender mother 
was filled with anxiety and care; she felt and saw that 
this new French Revolution was likely to infect all Eu- 
rope, and that Italy, above all, would be unable to avoid 
this infection. Italy was diseased to the core, and it was 
to be feared that it would grasp at desperate means in 
its agony, and proceed to the blood-letting of a revolu- 
tion, in order to restore itself to health. Hortense felt 
this, and feared for her sons. 


314 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


She feared that the exiled, the homeless ones, who 
had been driven from their country, and were not per- 
mitted to serve it, w T ould devote their services to those 
who were unhappy and who suffered like themselves. 
She feared the enthusiasm, the generous courage, the 
energy of her sons, and she knew that, if a revolution 
should break out in Italy, it would gladly adorn itself 
with the name of Napoleon. 

Hortense, therefore, conjured her sons to hold them- 
selves aloof from all dangerous undertakings, and not to 
follow those who might appeal to them with the old 
word of magic power, “ liberty ; ” that, in spite of the 
tears and blood it has already caused mankind, can never 
lose its wondrous power. 

Her two sons promised compliance; and, much re- 
lieved, Hortense left Florence, and went, with her young- 
er son, Louis Napoleon, to Home. 

But Rome, otherwise so aristocratic and solemn, as- 
sumed an unusual, an entirely new, physiognomy this 
winter. In society the topics of conversation were no 
longer art and poetry, the Pantheon and St. Peter, or 
what the newest amusement should be ; but politics and 
the French Revolution were the all-engrossing topics, 
and the populace listened anxiously for the signal that 
should announce that the revolution in Italy had at last 
begun. 

Even the populace of Rome, usually addicted to lying 
so harmlessly in the sunshine, now assembled in dense 
groups on the streets, and strange words were heard 


THE REVOLUTION IN ROME. 


315 


when the police cautiously approached these groups for 
the purpose of listening. But they now lacked the cour- 
age to arrest those who uttered those words ; they felt 
that such a provocation might suffice to tear away the 
veil behind which the revolution still concealed itself. 

The whole energy and watchfulness of the Roman 
government was therefore employed in endeavoring to 
avert the revolution, if possible ; not, however, by remov- 
ing the cause and occasion, but by depriving the people 
of the means. The son of Hortense, Louis Napoleon, 
seemed to the government a means which the revolution 
might use for its purposes, and it was therefore deter- 
mined that he should be removed. 

His name, and even the three-colored saddle-blanket 
of his horse, with which he rode through the streets of 
Rome, were exciting to the populace, in whose veins the 
fever of revolution was already throbbing. Louis Na- 
poleon must therefore be removed. 

The Governor of Rome first addressed the prince’s 
great-uncle, Cardinal Fesch, requesting him to advise the 
Duchess of St. Leu to remove the young prince from 
Rome for a few weeks. 

But the cardinal indignantly declared that his nephew, 
who had done nothing, should not be compelled to leave 
Rome merely on account of his name and his saddle- 
blanket, and that he would never advise the Duchess of 
St. Leu to do anything of the kind. 

The Roman government therefore determined to 

adopt energetic means. It caused the dwelling of the 
21 


316 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


duchess to be surrounded by soldiers, while a papal officer 
presented himself before Hortense, and announced that 
he had received orders to remove Prince Louis from the 
city at once, and to conduct him without the papal terri- 
tory. 

The fear of approaching evil caused the government 
to forget the respect due to nobility in misfortune, and 
the emperor’s nephew was turned out of the city like a 
criminal ! 

Hortense received this intelligence almost with joy. 
Far from Pome, it seemed to her that he would be safer 
from the revolution, whose approach she so much dread- 
ed ; and it therefore afforded her great satisfaction to send 
the prince to Florence, to his father, believing that he 
would there be shielded from the dangerous political 
calumnies that threatened him in Pome. She therefore 
permitted him to depart ; and how could she have pre- 
vented his departure — she, the lone, powerless woman, to 
whom not even the French ambassador would have ac- 
corded protection ! Ho one interceded for her — no one 
protested against the violent and brutal course pursued 
toward Louis Hapoleon — no one, except the Pussian am- 
bassador. 

The Emperor of Pussia was the only one of all the 
sovereigns of Europe who felt himself strong enough not 
to ignore the name of Hapoleon, and the consideration 
due to the family of a hero and of an emperor. 

The Emperor of Pussia had, therefore, never refused 
his protection and assistance to the Bonapartes, and his 


THE REVOLUTION IN ROME. 


317 


ambassador was now the only one wlio protested against 
the violent course taken by the Roman government. 

The revolution at last broke forth. Italy arose as 
France had done, resolved to throw oft’ the yoke of tyr- 
anny and oppression, and be free ! The storm first broke 
out in Modena. The duke saw himself compelled to fly, 
and a provisional government under General Menotti 
placed itself in his stead. But, while this was taking 
place in Modena, the populace of Rome was holding high 
festival in honor of the newly-chosen Pope Gregory 
XVI., who had just taken his seat in the chair of the 
deceased Pope Pius VIII., and these festivities, and the 
Carnival, seemed to occupy the undivided attention of the 
Romans ; under the laughing mask of these rejoicings the 
revolution hid its grave and threatening visage, and it was 
not until mardi-gras that it laid this mask aside and 
showed its true countenance. 

The people had been accustomed to throw confection- 
ery and flowers on this day, but this time the day was to 
be made memorable by a shower of stones and bullets ; 
this time they were not to appear in the harlequin jacket, 
but in their true form, earnest, grand, commanding, self- 
conscious, and self -asserting. 

But the government had been informed of the inten- 
tion of the conspirators to avail themselves of the drive 
to the Corso, to begin the revolution, and this procession 
was prohibited an hour before the time appointed for its 
commencement. 

The people arose against this prohibition, and the revo- 


318 QITEEN HORTENSE. 

lution they had endeavored to repress by this means now 
broke out. 

The thunder of cannon and the rattling of musketry 
now resounded through the streets of Rome, and the peo- 
ple everywhere resisted the papal soldiery with energy 
and determination. 

The new pope trembled in the Quirinal, the old car- 
dinals lost courage, and in dismay recoiled a step at every 
advancing stride of the insurgents. Gregory felt that the 
papal crown he had just achieved was already on the 
point of falling from his head, to be trodden in the dust 
by the victorious populace ; he turned to Austria, and so- 
licited help and assistance. 

But young Italy, the Italy of enthusiasm, of liberty, 
and of hope, looked to France for support. Old Italy 
had turned to Austria for help ; young Italy looked for 
assistance to the free, newly-arisen France, in which the 
revolution had just celebrated a glorious victory. But 
France denied its Italian brother, and denied its own 
origin ; scarcely had the revolution seated itself on the 
newly-erected kingly throne and invested itself with the 
crown and purple robe, when, for its own safety, it be- 
came reactionary, and denied itself. 

With all Italy, Rome was resolved to shake off the 
yoke of oppression ; the whole people espoused this cause 
with enthusiasm ; and in the streets of Rome — at other 
times filled with priests and monks and holy processions 
— in these streets, now alive with the triumphant youth of 
Rome, resounded exultant songs of freedom. 


THE REVOLUTION IN ROME. 


319 


The strangers, terrified by this change, now quitted 
the holy city in crowds, and hastened to their homes. 
Hortense desired to remain ; she knew that she had noth- 
ing to fear from the people, for all the evil that had hith- 
erto overtaken her, had come, not from the people, but 
always from the princes only.* However, letters sud- 
denly arrived from her sons, conjuring her to leave Home 
and announcing that they would leave Florence within 
the hour, in order to hasten forward to meet their 
mother. 

Upon reading this, Hortense cried aloud with terror 
— she, who knew and desired no other happiness on earth 
than the happiness of her children, she whose only prayer 
to God had ever been, that her children might prosper 
and that she might die before them, now felt that a fear- 
ful danger threatened her sons, and that they were now 
about to be swept into the vortex of the revolution. 

They had left Florence, and their father, and were 
now on the way to Rome, that is, on the way to the revo- 
lution that would welcome them with joy, and inscribe 
the name Napoleon on its standards ! 

But it was perhaps still time to save them ; with her 
prayers and entreaties she might still succeed in arresting 
them on the verge of the abyss into w T hich they were 
hastening in the intoxication of their enthusiasm. As 
this thought occurred to her, Hortense felt herself strong, 
determined, and courageous ; and, on the same day on 
which she had received the letters, she left Rome, and 


* La Reine Hortense, p. 63. 


320 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


hurried forward to meet her sons. She still hoped to be 
in time to save them ; she fancied she saw her sons in 
every approaching carriage — but in vain ! 

They had written that they would meet her on the 
road, but they were not there ! 

Perhaps they had listened to the representations of 
their father; perhaps they had remained in Florence, 
and were awaiting their mother’s arrival there. 

Tormented by fear and hope, Hortense arrived in 
Florence and drove to the dwelling in which her son 
Louis Napoleon had resided. Her feet could scarcely 
bear her up ; she hardly found strength to inquire after 
her son — he was not there ! 

But he might be w r ith his father, and Hortense now 
sent there for intelligence of her sons. The messenger 
returned, alone and dejected : her sons had left the city ! 

The exultant hymn of liberty had struck on their de- 
lighted ear, and they had responded to the call of the 
revolution. 

General Menotti had appealed to them, in the name 
of Italy, to assist the cause of freedom with their name 
and with their swords, and they had neither the will nor 
the courage to disregard this appeal. 

A servant, left behind by her younger son, delivered 
to the duchess a letter from her son Louis Napoleon, a 
last word of adieu to his beloved mother. 

“ Your love will understand us,” wrote Louis Napo- 
leon. “ Ve cannot withdraw ourselves from duties that 
devolve upon us ; the name we bear obliges us to listen 


THE DEATH OF PRINCE NAPOLEON. 


321 


to the appeal of unhappy nations. I beg you to represent 
this matter to my sister-in-law as though I had persuaded 
my brother to accompany me ; it grieves him to have 
concealed from her one action of his life.” * 


CHAPTEK Y. 

THE DEATH OF PRINCE NAPOLEON. 

That which Hortense most dreaded had taken place : 
the voice of enthusiasm had silenced every other consider- 
ation ; and the two sons of the Duchess of St. Leu, the 
nephews of the Emperor Napoleon, now stood at the 
head of the revolution. From Foligno to Civita Castel- 
lano, they organized the defence, and from the cities and 
villages the young people joyously hurried forth to enroll 
themselves under their banners, and to obey the Princes 
Napoleon as their leaders ; the crowds which the young 
princes now led were scarcely armed, but they neverthe- 
less advanced courageously, and were resolved to attempt 
the capture of Civita Castellano, in order to liberate the 
state prisoners who had been languishing in its dungeons 
for eight years. 

This was the intelligence brought back by the couriers 
whom Hortense had dispatched to her sons with letters 
entreating them to return. 

It was too late — they neither would nor could return. 


* La Reine Hortense, p. 78. 


322 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Their father wrung his hands in despair, and conjured 
his wife, he being confined to his arm-chair by illness and 
the gout, to do all in her power to tear their sons from 
the fearful danger that menaced them. For the revolu- 
tion was lost ; all who were cool and collected felt and 
saw this. But the youth refused to see it ; they still 
continued to flock to the revolutionary banners ; they 
still sang exultant hymns of freedom, and, when their 
parents endeavored to hold them back, they fled from 
the parental house secretly, in order to answer the call 
that resounded on their ear in such divine notes. 

One of the sons of the Princess of Canino, the wife of 
Lucien Bonaparte, had fled from his father’s castle in 
order to join the insurgents. They succeeded in finding, 
and forcing him to return, and as the family were under 
obligations to the pope for having created the principali- 
ties of Canino and Musignano, for Lucien Bonaparte and 
his eldest son, the most extreme measures were adopted 
to prevent the young prince from fighting against the 
troops of the pope. 

The Princess of Canino, as a favor, requested the 
Grand-duke of Tuscany to confine her son in one of the 
state prisons of Tuscany ; her request was granted, and 
her son taken to a prison, where he was kept during the 
entire revolution. It was proposed to the Duchess of St. 
Leu to adopt this same means of prevention, but, in spite 
of her anxiety and care, and although, in her restlessness 
and feverish disquiet, she wandered through her rooms 
day and night, she declined to take such a course. She 


THE DEATH OF PRINCE NAPOLEON. 


323 


was not willing to subject her sons to the humiliation of 
such compulsion ; if their own reason, if the prayers and 
entreaties of their mother, did not suffice, force should 
not be resorted to, to bring them back. The whole family 
was, however, still employing every means to induce the 
two Princes Napoleon to withdraw from the revolution, 
which must inevitably again draw down upon the name 
Napoleon the suspicion of the angry and distrustful 
princes of Europe. 

Cardinal Fesch and King Jerome conjured their 
nephews, first in entreating, and then in commanding 
letters, to leave the insurgent army. 

With the consent of their father, Louis Bonaparte, 
they w T rote to the provisional government at Bologna 
that the name of the two princes was injuring the cause 
of the revolution, and to General Armandi, the minister 
of war of the insurgent government, entreating him to 
recall the princes from the army. Every one, friend and 
foe, combined to neutralize the zeal and efforts of the two 
princes, and to prove to them that they could only injure 
the cause to which they gave their names ; that foreign 
powers, considering the revolution a matter to be decided 
by Italy alone, would perhaps refrain from intervening ; 
but that they would become relentless should a Bonaparte 
place himself at the head of the revolution, in order per- 
haps to shake the thrones of Europe anew. 

The two princes at last yielded to these entreaties and 
representations; they gave up their commands, and re- 
signed the rank that had been accorded them in the insur- 


324 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


gent army ; but, as it was no longer in their power to 
serve the revolution with their name and with their 
brains, they were at least desirous of serving it with their 
arms : they resigned their commands, but with the inten- 
tion of remaining in the army as simple soldiers and vol- 
unteers without any rank. 

And when their father and their uncles, not yet satis- 
fied with what they had done, urged them still further, 
the two princes declared that, if these cruel annoyances 
were continued, they would go to Poland, and serve the 
revolution there.* 

Hortense had taken no part in these attempts and ef- 
forts of her family ; she knew that it was all in vain ; she 
understood her sons better than they, and she knew that 
nothing in the world could alter a resolution they had 
once formed. But she also knew that they were lost, that 
the revolution must be suppressed, that they would soon 
be proscribed fugitives, and she quietly prepared to assist 
them when the evil days should come. She armed her- 
self with courage and determination, and made her soul 
strong, in order that she might not be overwhelmed by 
the misfortune that was so near at hand. 

While all about her were weeping and lamenting, 
while her husband was wringing his hands in despair, 
and complaining of the present, Hortense quietly and 
resolutely confronted the future, and prepared to defy it. 

That which she dreaded soon took place. An Aus- 
trian fleet sailed into the Adriatic ; an Austrian army was 
* La Reine Hortense, p. 93. 


THE DEATH OF PRINCE NAPOLEON. 


325 


marching on the insurrectionary Italian provinces. Mo- 
dena had already been reconquered ; the insurgents were 
already flying in crowds before the Austrian cannon, 
whose thundering salvos were destined to destroy once 
more the hopes of the youth of Italy. 

Like an enraged lioness glowing with enthusiasm and 
courage, Hortense now sprang up. The danger was there, 
and she must save her sons ! She had long considered 
how it was to be done, and whither she was to go with 
them. She had first resolved to go with them to Turkey, 
and to take up her residence in Smyrna, but the presence 
of the Austrian fleet which ruled the Adriatic made this 
plan impracticable. At this moment of extreme danger, 
a volume of light suddenly beamed in upon her soul, and 
pointed out the way to safety. “ I will take them by a 
road,” said she to herself, on which they will be least 
expected. I will conduct them through France, through 
Paris. The death-penalty will there hang suspended over 
them, but what care I for that ? Liberty, justice, and hu- 
manity, still exercise too much control over France to 
make me apprehend such severe measures. I must save 
my sons ; the way through France is the way of safety, 
and I shall therefore follow it ! ” 

And Hortense immediately began to carry her plan 
into execution. She requested an Englishman residing 
in Florence, to whose family she had once rendered im- 
portant services in France, to call on her, and begged 
him to procure her a passport for an English lady and her 
two sons through France to England. 


326 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


The lord understood her, and gladly consented to as- 
sist her and her two sons. 

On the following day he brought her the required 
passport, and Hortense, who well knew that the best way 
to keep a secret was to have no confidants, now declared 
to her husband, as well as to her family and her friends, 
that she was resolved to find her sons, and to embark 
with them from Ancona for Corfu ! 

For this purpose she demanded a passport of the gov- 
ernment of Tuscany, and it was accorded her. 

Her sons were still in Bologna, but it was known that 
this city must fall into the hands of the Austrians in a 
few days, and all was lost unless Hortense arrived there 
before them. She sent a trusty servant to her sons to 
announce her coming. Then, at nightfall, she herself 
departed, accompanied by one of her ladies only. She 
was courageous and resolute, for she knew that the safety 
of her sons, her only happiness, was at stake. 

Her rapidly-driven carriage had soon passed without 
the city, and she now found herself in a part of the 
country still occupied by the insurgents. Here all still 
breathed courage, joyousness, and confidence. The en- 
tire population, adorned with cockades and three-colored 
ribbons, seemed happy and contented, and refused to be- 
lieve in the danger that threatened. 

Festivals were everywhere being held in honor of the 
revolution and of liberty, and those who spoke of the ad- 
vancing Austrians and of dangers were ridiculed. In- 
stead of making preparations for their defence, the insur- 


THE DEATH OF PRINCE NAPOLEON. 327 

gents folded tlieir hands in contentment, rejoicing over 
that which they had already attained, and blind to the tide 
that was rolling down upon them. 

In the mean while, the insurgent army was in position 
near Bologna, and also still occupied the two cities of 
Terni and Soleta, which they had courageously defended 
against the papal troops. Every one expected that a de- 
cisive battle would soon take place, and every one looked 
forward to it with a joyous assurance of victory. 

Hortense was far from participating in this general 
confidence. In Foligno, where she had remained to await 
her sons, she passed several sorrowful days of expectancy 
and suspense, alarmed by every noise, and ever looking 
forward with an anxiously- throbbing heart to the moment 
when her sons should come to her as fugitives, perhaps 
covered with wounds, perhaps dying, to tell her that all 
was lost ! Her anxiety at last became so great, that she 
could no longer remain in Foligno ; she must be nearer 
her sons, she must view the dangers that encompassed 
them, and, if need be, share them. Hortense, therefore, 
left Foligno, and started for Ancona. 

On her arrival at the first station, she saw a man de- 
scend from a carriage and approach her. He was un- 
known to her, and yet she felt a dark foreboding at his 
approach. The mother’s heart already felt the blow that 
awaited her. 

This man was a messenger from her sons. “ Prince 
Napoleon is ill,” said he. 

Hortense remembered that she had heard that a con- 


328 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tagious disease was ravaging the vicinity. “ Is he indeed 
ill ? ” cried she, in dismay. 

“ Yes ; and he earnestly desires to see you, madame ! ” 
“ Oh,” exclaimed Hortense, in terror, “ if he calls for 
me, he must be very ill indeed ! — Forward, forward, with 
all possible speed ; I must see my son ! ” 

And onward they went with the speed of the wind 
from station to station, approaching nearer and nearer to 
their destination ; but as they neared their destination, 
the faces they met grew sadder and sadder. At every 
station groups of people assembled about her carriage 
and gazed at her sorrowfully ; everywhere she heard 
them murmur : “ Napoleon is dead ! Poor mother ! 
Napoleon is dead!” Hortense heard, but did not be- 
lieve it ! These words had not been spoken by men, but 
were the utterances of her anxious heart ! Her son was 
not dead, he could not be dead. Napoleon lived, yes, he 
still lived ! And again the people around her carriage 
murmured, “ Napoleon is dead ! ” 

Hortense reclined in her carriage, pale and motion- 
less. Her thoughts were confused, her heart scarcely 
beat. 

At last she reached her destination ; her carriage 
drove up to the house in Pesaro, where her sons were 
awaiting her. 

At this moment a young man, his countenance of a 
deathly pallor, and flooded with tears, rushed out of the 
door and to her carriage. Hortense recognized him, and 
stretched out her arms to him. It was her son Louis 


THE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 


329 


Napoleon, and on beholding his pale, sorrowful counte- 
nance, and his tear-stained eyes, the unhappy mother 
learned the truth. Yes, it was not her heart, it was the 
people who had uttered the fearful words : “ Napoleon 
is dead ! Poor mother ! Napoleon is dead ! ” 

With a heart-rending cry, Hortense sank to the 
ground in a swoon. 


CHAPTER YI. 

THE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 

But Hortense now had no leisure to weep over the 
son she had so dearly loved ; the safety of the son who 
remained to her, whom she loved no less, and on whom 
her whole love must now be concentrated, was at stake. 

She still had a son to save, and she must now think 
of him — of Louis Napoleon, w T ho stood in sorrow at her 
side, lamenting that Fate had not allowed him to die 
with his brother. 

Her son must be saved. This thought restored Hor- 
tense to health and strength. She is informed that the 
authorities of Bologna have already tendered submission 
to the Austrians ; that the insurgent army is already scat- 
tering in every direction ; that the Austrian fleet is al- 
ready to be seen in the distance, approaching, perhaps 
with the intention of landing at Sinigaglia, in order to 
surround the insurgents and render flight impossible. 

This intelligence aroused Hortense from her grief 


330 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and restored lier energy. She ordered her carriage and 
drove with her son to Ancona, in full view of the peo- 
ple, in order that every one should know that it was her 
purpose to embark with her son for Corfu at that sea- 
port. At Ancona, immediately fronting the sea, stood 
her nephew’s palace, and there Hortense descended from 
her carriage. 

The waves of the storm-tossed sea sometimes rushed 
up to the windows of the room occupied by the duchess ; 
from there she could see the port, and the crowds of 
fugitives who were pressing forward to save themselves 
on the miserable little vessels that there lay at anchor. 

And these poor people had but little time left them 
in which to seek safety. The Austrians were rapidly 
advancing ; on entering the papal territory, they had 
proclaimed an amnesty, from the benefits of which 
Prince Louis Napoleon, General Zucchi, and the inhab- 
itants of Modena, were, however, excepted. The stran- 
gers who had taken part in the insurrection were to be 
arrested and treated with all the severity of the law. 

The young people who had flocked from Modena, 
Milan, and from all Italy, to enroll themselves under the 
banner of the Homan revolution, now found it necessary 
to seek safety from the pursuing Austrians in flight. 

Louis Napoleon also had no time to lose ; each mo- 
ment lost might render flight impossible ! Hortense was 
weary and ill, but she now had no time to think of her- 
self ; she must first save her son, then she could die, but 
not sooner. 




THE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 331 

With perfect composure she prepared for her double 
(her feigned and her real) departure. 

Outwardly, she purposed embarking with her son at 
Corfu ; secretly, it was her intention to fly to England 
through France ! But the English passport that she had 
received for this purpose mentioned two sons, and Hor- 
tense now possessed but one; and it was necessary for 
her to provide a substitute for the one she had lost. 

She found one in the person of the young Marquis 
Zappi, who, compromised more than all the rest, joyfully 
accepted the proposition of the Duchess of St. Leu, 
promising to conform himself wholly to her arrange- 
ments, without knowing her plans and without being ini- 
tiated in her secrets. 

Hortense then procured all that was necessary to the 
disguise of the young men as liveried servants, and or- 
dered her carriage to be held in readiness for her de- 
parture. 

While this was being done in secret, she publicly 
caused all preparations to be made for her journey to 
Corfu. She sent her passport to the authorities for the 
purpose of obtaining the official visa for herself and 
sons, and had her trunks packed. Louis Napoleon had 
looked on, with cold and mute indifference, while these 
preparations were being made. He stood by, pale and 
dejected, without complaining or giving utterance to his 
grief. 

Becoming at last convinced that he was ill, Hortense 

sent for a physician. 

22 * 


332 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


The latter declared that the prince was suffering from 
a severe attack of fever, which might become dangerous 
unless he sought repose at once. It was therefore neces- 
sary to postpone their departure for a day, and Hortense 
passed an anxious night at the bedside of her fever- 
shaken, delirious son. 

The morning at last dawned, the morning of the day 
on which they hoped to fly ; but when the rising sun shed 
its light into the chamber in which Hortense stood at her 
son’s bedside, who can describe the unhappy mother’s 
horror wheu she saw her son’s face swollen, disfigured, 
and covered with red spots ! 

Like his brother, Louis Napoleon had also taken the 
same disease. 

For a moment Hortense was completely overwhelmed, 
and then, by the greatest effort of her life, she summoned 
her fortitude to her aid. She immediately sent for the 
physician again, and, trusting to a sympathetic human 
heart, she confided all to him, and he did not disappoint 
her. What is to be done must be done quickly, immedi- 
ately, or it will be in vain ! 

Hortense thinks of all, and provides for all. Espe- 
cially, she causes her son’s passport to Corfu to be signed 
by the authorities, and a passage to be taken for him on 
the only ship destined for Corfu now lying in the harbor. 
She instructs the servants, who are conveying trunks and 
packages to the vessel, to inform the curious spectators of 
her son’s intended departure on this vessel. She at the 
same time causes the report to be circulated that she has 


TIIE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 


383 


suddenly been taken ill, and can therefore not accompany 
her son. 

The physician confirms this statement, and informs all 
Ancona of the dangerous illness of the Duchess of St. Leu. 

And after all this had been done, Hortense causes her 
son s bed to be carried into the little cabinet adjoining 
her room, and falling on her knees at his bedside, and 
covering her face with her hands, she prays to God to 
preserve the life of her child ! 

On the evening of this day the vessel destined for 
Corfu hoisted its anchor. No one doubted that Louis 
Napoleon had embarked on it, and every one pitied the 
poor duchess, who, made ill by grief and anxiety, had not 
been able to accompany her son. 

In the mean while Hortense was sitting at the bedside 
of her delirious son. But she no longer felt weak or dis- 
quieted ; nervous excitement sustained her, and gave her 
strength and presence of mind. Her son was at the same 
time threatened by two dangers — by the disease, which 
the slightest mistake might render mortal ; and by the 
arrival of the Austrians, who had expressly excepted her 
son Louis Napoleon from the benefits of the amnesty. 
She must save her son from both these dangers — this 
thought gave her strength. 

Two days had now passed ; the last two vessels had 
left the harbor, crowded with fugitives ; and now the 
advance-guard of the Austrians was marching into An- 
cona. 

The commandant of the advance-guard, upon whom 


334 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


the duty of designating quarters for the following army 
devolved, selected the palace of Princess Canino, where 
the Duchess of St. Leu resided, as headquarters for the 
commanding general and his staff. Hortense had ex- 
pected this, and had withdrawn to a few small rooms in 
advance, holding all the parlors and large rooms in readi- 
ness for the general. When they, however, demanded 
that the entire palace should be vacated, the wife of the 
janitor, the only person whom Hortense had taken into 
her confidence, informed them that Queen Hortense, who 
was ill and unhappy, was the sole occupant of these re- 
served rooms. 

Strange to relate, the Austrian captain who came to 
the palace to make the necessary preparations for his gen- 
eral’s reception was one of those who, in the year 1815, 
had protected the queen and her children from the fury 
of the royalists. For the second time he now interested 
himself zealously in behalf of the duchess, and hastened 
forward to meet the general-in-chief, Baron Geppert, who 
was just entering the city, in order to acquaint him with 
the state of affairs. He, in common with all the world, 
convinced that her son, Louis Hapoleon, had fled to 
Corfu, declared his readiness to permit the duchess to 
retain the rooms she was occupying, and begged permis- 
sion to call on her. But the duchess was still ill, and 
confined to her bed, and could receive no one. 

The Austrians took up their quarters in the palace ; 
and in the midst of them, separated from the general’s 
room by a locked door only, were Hortense and her sick 


THE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 


335 


son. The least noise might betray him. When he 
coughed it was necessary to cover his head with the bed- 
clothes, in order to deaden the sound ; when he desired to 
speak he could only do so in a whisper, for his Austrian 
neighbors would have been astonished to hear a male 
voice in the room of the sick duchess, and their suspi- 
cions might have been thereby aroused. 

At last, after eight days of torment and anxiety, the 
physician declared that Louis Napoleon could now under- 
take the journey without danger, and consequently the 
duchess suddenly recovered ! She requested the Austrian 
general, Baron Geppert, to honor her with a call, in order 
that she might thank him for his protection and sympa- 
thy ; she told him that she was now ready to depart, and 
proposed embarking at Livorno, in order to join her son 
at Malta, and go with him to England. As she would be 
compelled to pass through the whole Austrian army-corps 
on her way, she begged the general to furnish her with a 
passport through his lines over his own signature; re- 
questing in addition that, in order to avoid all sensation, 
the instrument should not contain her name. 

The general, deeply sympathizing with the unhappy 
woman who was about to follow her proscribed son, read- 
ily accorded her request. 

Hortense purposed beginning her journey on the fol- 
lowing day, the first day of the Easter festival ; and, on 
sending her farewell greeting to the Austrian general, she 
informed him that she would start at a very early hour, in 
order to hear mass at Loretto. 


336 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


During tlie night all necessary preparations for the 
journey were made, and Louis Napoleon was compelled 
to disguise himself in the dress of a liveried servant ; a 
similar attire was also sent to Marquis Zappi, who had hith- 
erto been concealed in the house of a friend, and in this 
attire he was to await the duchess below at the carriage. 

At last, day broke and the hour of departure came. 
The horn of the postilion resounded through the street. 
Through the midst of the sleeping Austrian soldiers who 
occupied the antechamber through which they were com- 
pelled to pass, Hortense walked, followed by her son, 
loaded with packages, in his livery. Their departure was 
witnessed by no one except the sentinel on duty. 

Day had hardly dawned. In the first carriage sat the 
duchess, wdth a lady companion, and in front, on the box, 
her son, as a servant, at the side of the postilion ; in the 
second carriage her maid, behind her the young Marquis 
Zappi. 

As the sun arose and shone down upon the beautiful 
Easter day, Ancona was already far behind, and Hortense 
knelt down at the side of Louis Napoleon to thank God 
tearfully for having permitted her to succeed so far in 
rescuing her son, and to entreat Him to be merciful 
in the future. But there were still many dangers to be 
overcome; the slightest accident might still betray them. 
The danger consisted not only in having to pass through 
all the places where the Austrian troops w^ere stationed ; 
General Geppert’s pass was a sufficient protection against 
any thing that might threaten them from this quarter. 


THE FLIGHT FROM ITALY. 


337 


Tlie greatest danger was to be apprehended from their 
friends — from some one who might accidentally recog- 
nize her son, and unintentionally betray them. 

They must pass through the grand-duchy of Tuscany, 
and there the greatest danger menaced, for there her son 
was known to every one, and every one might betray 
them. This part of the journey must therefore be made, 
as far as possible, by night. The courier whom they had 
dispatched in advance had everywhere ordered the neces- 
sary relays of horses ; their dismay was, therefore, great 
when they found no horses at the station Camoscia, 
on the boundary of Tuscany, and were informed that 
several hours must elapse before they could obtain any ! 

These hours of expectation and anxiety w T ere fearful. 
Hortense passed them in her carriage, breathlessly listen- 
ing to the slightest noise that broke upon the air. 

Her son Louis had descended from the carriage, and 
seated himself on a stone bench that stood in front of 
the miserable little station-house. Worn out by grief and 
still weak from disease, indifferent to the dangers that 
menaced from all sides, heedless of the night wind that 
swept, with its icy breath, over his face, the prince sank 
down upon this stone bench, and went to sleep. 

Thus they passed the night. Hortense, once a queen, 
in a half-open carriage ; Louis Napoleon, the present 
Emperor of France, on a stone bench, that served him 
as a couch ! 


338 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE PILGRIMAGE. 

Heaven took pity on the agony of the unhappy 
Duchess of St. Leu. It heard the prayer of her anxious 
mother’s heart, and permitted mother and son to escape 
the dangers that menaced them at every step in Italy. 

At Antibes they succeeded in crossing the French 
boundary without being recognized. They were now in 
their own country — in la belle France , which they still 
loved and proudly called their mother, although it had 
forsaken and discarded them. The death-penalty threat- 
ened the Bonapartes who should dare to set foot on 
French soil. But what cared they for that? Neither 
Hortense nor her son thought of it. They only knew 
that they were in their own country. They inhaled 
with delight the air that seemed to them better and 
purer than any other ; with hearts throbbing wdtli joy, 
they listened to the music of this beautiful language 
that greeted them with the sweet native melodies. 

At Cannes they passed the first night. What recol- 
lections did this place recall to Hortense ! Here it was 
that Napoleon had landed on his return from Elba to 
France ; from Cannes he had commenced his march to 
Paris with a handful of soldiers, and had arrived there 
with an army. For the people had everywhere received 
him with exultation ; the regiments that had been sent 
out against the advancing general had everywhere joy- 


THE PILGRIMAGE. 


339 


ously gone over to liis standard. Charles de Labedoyere, 
this enthusiastic adherent of the emperor, had been the 
first to do this. He was to have advanced against the 
emperor from Grenoble; but, with the exulting cry, 
“ Vive V emjpereur ! ” the entire regiment had gone over 
to its adored chieftain. Labedoyere had paid dearly for 
the enthusiasm of those moments ; for, the f or-the-second- 
tiine restored Bourbons punished his fidelity with death. 
Like Marshal Hey, Charles de Labedoyere was also shot ; 
like the emperor himself, he paid for the triumph of the 
hundred days with his liberty and wdth his life ! 

Of all these names and events of the past, Hortense 
thought, while enjoying the first hours of repose in their 
room at an hotel in Cannes. Leaning back in her chair, 
her large eyes gazing dreamily at the ceiling above her, she 
told the attentive prince of the days that had been, and 
spoke to him of the days in which they were now living 
—of these days of humiliation and obscurity — of those 
days in which the French nation had risen, and, shaking 
its lion’s mane, hurled the Bourbons from their ancestral 
throne, and out of the land they had hitherto proudly called 
their own. On driving out the Bourbons, the people had 
freely chosen another king — not the King of Rome, who, 
in Vienna, as Duke of Reichstadt, had been made to for- 
get the brilliant days of his childhood — not the son of 
the Emperor Hapoleon. The people of France had 
chosen the Duke of Orleans as their king, and Louis 
Philippe’s first act had been to renew the decree of 
banishment which the Bourbons had fulminated against 


340 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tlie Bonapartes, and which declared it to be a capital 
crime if they should ever dare to set foot on the soil of 
France. 

“ The people acted freely and according to their own 
will,” said Hortense, with a sad smile, as she saw her son 
turn pale, and wrinkles gather on his brow. “ Honor the 
will of the people, my son ! In order to reward the em- 
peror for his great services to the country, the people of 
France had unanimously chosen him their emperor. The 
people who give have also the right to take back again. 
The Bourbons, who consider themselves the owners of 
France, may reclaim it as an estate of which they have 
been robbed by the house of Orleans. But the Bona- 
partes must remember that they derived all their power 
from the will of the people. They must be content to 
await the future expression of its will, and then submit, 
and conform themselves to it.” * 

Louis Napoleon bowed his head and sighed. He must 
conform to the will of the people ; cautiously, under a 
borrowed name, he must steal into the land of his longing 
and of his dreams ; he must deny his nationality, and be 
indebted, for his name and passport, to the country that 
had bound his uncle, like a second Prometheus, to the rock, 
and left him there to die ! But he did it with a sorrow- 
ful, with a bleeding heart ; he wandered with his mother, 
who walked heavily veiled at his side, from place to place, 
listening to her reminiscences of the great past. At her 

* The duchess’s own words. See La Reine Hortense en Italie, 
Suisse, France, etc., p. 79. 


THE PILGRIMAGE. 


341 


relation of these reminiscences, his love and enthusiasm for 
the fatherland, from which he had so long been banished, 
burned brighter and brighter. The sight, the air of this 
fatherland, had electrified him ; he entertained but one 
wish : to remain in France, and to serve France, although 
in the humble capacity of a private soldier. 

One day Louis Napoleon entered his mother’s room 
with a letter in his hand, and begged her to read it. It 
was a letter addressed to Louis Philippe, in which Louis 
Napoleon begged the French king to annul his exile, and 
to permit him to enter the French army as a private 
soldier. 

Hortense read the letter, and shook her head sadly. 
It wounded her just pride that her son, the nephew of 
the great emperor, should ask a favor of him who had 
not hesitated to make the most of the revolution for him- 
self, but had nevertheless lacked the courage to help the 
banished Bonapartes to recover their rights, and enable 
them to return to their country. In his ardent desire to 
serve France, Louis Napoleon had forgotten this insult of 
the King of France. 

“ My children,” s&ys Hortense, in her memoirs, “ my 
children, who had been cruelly persecuted by all the 
courts, even by those who owed every thing to the em- 
peror, their uncle, loved their country wdth whole-souled 
devotion. Their eyes ever turned toward France, busied 
with the consideration of institutions that might make 
France happy; they knew that the people alone w T ere 
their friends ; the hatred of the great had taught them 


342 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


this. To conform to the will of the people with assigna- 
tion was to them a duty, but to devote themselves to the 
service of France was their hearts’ dearest wish. It was 
for this reason that my son had written to Louis Philippe, 
hoping to be permitted to make himself useful to his 
country in some way.” 

Ilortense advised against this venturous step ; and 
when she saw how much this grieved her son, and ob- 
served his eyes filling with tears, she begged that he 
would at least wait and reflect, and postpone his decision 
until their arrival in Paris. 

Louis Napoleon yielded to his mother’s entreaties, and 
in silence and sadness these two pilgrims continued their 
wandering through the country and cities, that to Hor- 
tense seemed transformed into luminous monuments of 
departed glory. 

In Fontainebleau Hortense showed her son the palace 
that had been the witness of the greatest triumphs and 
also of the most bitter grief of his great uncle. Lean- 
ing on his arm, her countenance concealed by a heavy 
black veil, to prevent any one from recognizing her, Hor- 
tense walked through the chambers, in which she had 
once been installed as a mighty and honored queen, and 
in which she was now covertly an exile menaced with 
death. The servants who conducted her were the same 
who had been there during the days of the emperor ! 
Hortense recognized them at once ; she did not dare to 
make herself known, but she nevertheless felt that she, 
too, was remembered there. She saw this in the expres- 


THE PILGRIMAGE. 


343 


sion with which the servants opened the rooms she had 
once occupied ; she heard it in the tone in which they 
mentioned her name ! Every thing in this palace had 
remained as it then was ! There was the same furniture 
in the rooms which the imperial family had occupied 
after the peace of Tilsit, and in which they had given 
such brilliant and received the homage of so many 
of the kings and princes of Europe, all of whom had 
come to implore the assistance and favor of their van- 
quisher ! There were also the apartments which the pope 
had occupied, once voluntarily ; subsequently, under com- 
pulsion. Alas ! and there was also the little cabinet, in 
which the emperor, the once so mighty and illustrious 
ruler of Europe, had abdicated the crown which his vic- 
tories, his good deeds, and the love of the French people, 
had placed on his head ! And, finally, there were also 
the chapel and the altar before which the Emperor Napo- 
leon had stood god-father to his nephew Louis Napoleon! 
All was still as it had been, except that the garden, that 
Hortense and her mother had laid out and planted, had 
grown more luxuriant, and now sang to the poor banished 
pilgrim with its rustling tree-tops a melancholy song of 
her long separation from her home ! 

The sorrowing couple wandered on, and at last arrived 
befpre the gates of Paris. At this moment, Hortense was 
a Frenchwoman, a Parisian only, and, forgetting every 
thing else, all her grief and sufferings, she sought only to 
do the honors of Paris for her son. She ordered the 
coachman to drive them through the boulevards to the 


344 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


Hue de la Paix, and then to stop at the first good hotel. 
This was the same way over which she had passed sixteen 
years before, escorted by an Austrian officer. Then she 
had quitted Paris by night, driven out in a measure by 
the allies, who so much feared her, the poor, weak woman, 
with her little boys, that troops had been placed under 
arms at regular intervals on her way, in order, as it was 
given out, to secure her safe passage. Now, after sixteen 
years, Hortense returned to Paris by the same route, still 
exiled and homeless, at her side the son who was not only 
menaced by the French decree of banishment, but also by 
the Austrian edict of proscription. 

But yet she was once more in Paris, once more at 
home, and she wept with joy at beholding once more the 
streets and places about which the memories of her youth 
clustered. 

By a strange chance, it was at the “ Hotel de Hol- 
lander that the former Queen of Holland descended 
from her carriage, and took up her residence, holding 
thus, in a measure, her entrance into Paris, under the flut- 
tering banner of the past. In the little Hotel de Hol- 
lander the Queen of Holland took possession of the 
apartments of the first floor, wdiich commanded a view 
of the boulevard and the column of the Place Vendome. 
“ Say to the column on the Place Vendome that I am 
dying, because I cannot embrace it,” the Duke de Keich- 
stadt once w T rote in the album of a French nobleman, who 
had succeeded, in spite of the watchful spies, who sur- 
rounded the emperor’s son, in speaking to him of his 


THE PILGRIMAGE. 


345 


father and of the empire. This happiness, vainly longed 
for by the emperor’s son, was at least to be enjoyed by 
his nephew. 

Louis Napoleon could venture to show himself. In 
Paris he was entirely unknown, and could therefore be 
betrayed by no one. He could go down into the square 
and hasten to the foot of the Venddme column, and in 
thought at least kneel down before the monument that 
immortalized the renown and grandeur of the emperor. 
Hortense remained behind, in order to perform a sacred 
duty, imposed on her, as she believed, by her own honor 
and dignity. 

She was not willing to sojourn secretly, like a fugi- 
tive- criminal, in the city that in the exercise of its free 
will had chosen itself a king, but not a Bonaparte. She 
was not willing to partake of French hospitality and en- 
joy French protection by stealth ; she was not willing to 
go about in disguise, deceiving the government with a 
false pass and a borrowed name. She had the courage 
of truth and sincerity, and she resolved to say to the 
King of France that she had come, not to defy his de- 
cree of banishment by her presence, not for the purpose 
of intriguing against his new crown, by arousing the 
Bonapartists from their sleep of forgetfulness by her 
appearance, but solely because there was no other means 
of saving her son ; because she must pass through France 
with him in order to reach England. 

Bevolution, which so strangely intermingles the des- 
tinies of men, had surrounded the new king almost en- 


346 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


tirely with the friends and servants of the emperor and 
of the Duchess of St. Leu. But, in order not to excite 
suspicion against these, Hortense now addressed herself 
to him with whom she had the slightest acquaintance, 
and whose devotion to the Orleans family was too well 
known to be called in doubt by her undertaking. Hor- 
tense therefore addressed herself to M. de Houdetot, the 
adjutant of the king, or rather, she caused her friend 
Mile, de Massuyer to write to him. She was instructed 
to inform the count that she had come to Paris with an 
English family, and was the bearer of a commission from 
the Duchess of St. Leu to M. de Houdetot. 

M. de Houdetot responded to her request, and came 
to the Hotel de Ilollande to see Mile. Massuyer. With 
surprise and emotion, he recognized in the supposititious 
English lady the Duchess of St. Leu, who was believed 
by all the world to be on the way to Malta, and for 
whom her friends (who feared the fatigue of so long a 
journey would be too much for Hortense in her weak 
state of health) had already taken steps to obtain for her 
permission to pass through France on her way to England. 

Hortense informed Count Houdetot of the last 
strokes of destiny that had fallen upon her, and ex- 
pressed her desire to see the king, in order to speak with 
him in person about the future of her son. 

M. de Houdetot undertook to acquaint the king with 
her desire, and came on the following day to inform the 
duchess of the result of his mission. He told the duch- 
ess that the king had loudly lamented her boldness in 


LOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 347 

coming to France, and the impossibility of his seeing 
her. He told her, moreover, that, as the king had a re- 
sponsible ministry at his side, he had been compelled to 
inform the premier of her arrival, and that Minister 
Casimir Perrier would call on her during the day. 

A few hours later, Louis Philippe’s celebrated minis- 
ter arrived. He came with an air of earnest severity, as 
it were to sit in judgment upon the accused duchess, but 
her artless sincerity and her gentle dignity disarmed him, 
and soon caused him to assume a more delicate and po- 
lite bearing. 

“ I well know,” said Hortense in the course of the 
conversation, “ I well know that I have broken a law, by 
coming hither ; I fully appreciate the gravity of this 
offence ; you have the right to cause me to be arrested, 
and it would be perfectly just in you to do so ! ” — Casi- 
mir Perrier shook his head slowly, and replied : “ Just, 
no ! Lawful, yes ! ” * 


CHAPTER Till. 

LOUIS PHILIPPE. AND THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 

The visit which Casimir Perrier had paid the duch- 
ess seemed to have convinced him that the fears which 
the king and his ministry had entertained had really been 
groundless, that the step-daughter of Napoleon had not 
come to Paris to conspire and to claim the still somewhat 

* La Heine Hortense : Voyage en Italie, etc., p. 110. 

23 


348 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


unstable throne of France for the Duke de Reiclistadt, 
or for Louis Napoleon, but that she had only chosen 
the way through France, in the anxiety of maternal love, 
in order to rescue her son. 

In accordance with this conviction, Louis Philippe no 
longer considered it impossible to see the Duchess of St. 
Leu, but now requested her to call. Perhaps the king, 
who had so fine a memory for figures and money-mat- 
ters, remembered that it had been Hortense (then still 
Queen of Holland) who, during the hundred days of the 
empire in 1815, had procured for the Duchess Orleans- 
Penthievre, from the emperor, permission to remain in 
Paris and a pension of two hundred thousand francs per 
annum ; that it had been Hortense who had done the 
same for the aunt of the present king, the Duchess of 
Orleans-Bourbon. Then, in their joy over an assured 
and brilliant future, these ladies had written the duchess 
the most affectionate and devoted letters ; then they had 
assured Hortense of their eternal and imperishable grati- 
tude.* Perhaps Louis Philippe remembered this, and 
was desirous of rewarding Hortense for her services to 
his mother and his aunt. 

He solicited a visit from Hortense, and, on the second 
day of her sojourn in Paris, M. de Houdetot conducted 
the Duchess of St. Leu to the Tuileries, in which she had 
once lived as a young girl, as the step-daughter of the 
emperor ; then as Queen of Holland, as the wife of the 
emperor’s brother ; and which she now beheld once more, 

* La Reine Hortense : Voyage en Italie, etc., p. 185. 


LOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 349 

a poor, nameless pilgrim, a fugitive with shrouded coun- 
tenance, imploring a little toleration and protection of 
those to whom she had once accorded toleration and pro- 
tection. 

Louis Philippe received the Duchess of St. Leu with 
all the elegance and graciousness which the “Citizen 
King ” so well knew how to assume, and that had always 
been an inheritance of his house, with all the amiability 
and apparent open-heartedness beneath which he so well 
knew how to conceal his real disposition. Coming to 
the point at once, he spoke of that which doubtlessly 
interested the duchess most, of the decree of banish- 
ment. 

“ I am familiar,” said the king, “ with all the pains of 
exile, and it is not my fault that yours have not been 
alleviated.” He assured her that this decree of banish- 
ment against the Bonaparte family was a heavy burden 
on his heart ; he went so far as to excuse himself for it 
by saying that the exile pronounced against the imperial 
family was only an article of the same law which the con- 
ventionists had abolished, and the renewal of which had 
been so vehemently demanded by the country ! Thus it 
had seemed as though he had uttered a new decree of 
banishment, while in point of fact he had only renewed 
a law that had already existed under the consulate of 
Napoleon. “ But,” continued the king with exultation, 
“ the time is no longer distant when there will be no more 
exiles ; I will have none under my government ! ” 

Then, as if to remind the duchess that there had been 


350 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


exiles and decrees of banishment at all times, also under 
the republic, the consulate, and the kingdom, he spoke of 
his own exile, of the needy and humiliating situation in 
which he had found himself, and which had compelled 
him to hire himself out as a teacher and give instruction 
for a paltry consideration. 

The duchess had listened to the king with a gentle 
smile, and replied that she knew the story of his exile, 
and that it did him honor. 

Then the duchess informed the king that her son 
had accompanied her on her journey, and was now with 
her in Paris ; she also told him that her son, in his 
glowing enthusiasm for his country, had written to the 
king, begging that he might be permitted to enter the 
army. 

“ Lend me the letter,” replied Louis Philippe ; “ Per- 
rier shall bring it to me, and, if circumstances permit, I 
shall be perfectly willing to grant your son’s request ; and 
it will also give me great pleasure to serve you at all 
times. I know that you have legitimate claims on the 
government, and that you have appealed to the justice of 
all former ministries in vain. Write out a statement of 
all that France owes you, and send it to me alone. I un- 
derstand business matters, and constitute myself from this 
time on your charge d'affaires* The Duke of Povigo,” 
he continued, “ has informed me that the other members 
of the imperial family have similar claims. It will afford 
me great pleasure to be of assistance to all of you, and I 

* The king’s own words. See Voyage en Italie, etc., p. 201. 


LOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 351 

shall interest myself particularly for the Princess de Mont- 
fort.” * 

Hortense had listened to the king, her whole face 
radiant with delight. The king’s beneficent countenance, 
his friendly smile, his hearty and cordial manner, dis- 
pelled all doubt of his sincerity in Hortense’s mind. She 
believed in his goodness and in his kindly disposition 
toward herself ; and, in her joyous emotion, she thanked 
him with words of enthusiasm for his promised benefits, 
never doubting that it was his intention to keep his word. 

“ Ah, sire ! ” she exclaimed, “ the entire imperial 
family is in misfortune, and you will have many wrongs 
to redress. France owes us all a great deal, and it will 
be worthy of you to liquidate these debts.” 

The king declared his readiness to do every thing. 
He who was so fond of taking in millions and of specu- 
lating, smilingly promised, in the name of France, to dis- 
burse millions, and to pay off the old state debt ! 

The duchess believed him. She believed in his pro- 
testations of friendship, and in his blunt sincerity. She 
allowed him to conduct her to his wife, the queen, and 
was received by her and Madame Adelaide with the same 
cordiality the king had shown. Once only in the course 
of the conversation did Madame Adelaide forget her cor- 
dial disposition. She asked the duchess how long she 
expected to remain in Paris, and when the latter replied 
that she intended remaining three days longer, Madame 

f The Princess de Montfort was the wife of Jerome, the sister of 
the King of Wurtemberg, and a cousin of the Emperor of Russia. 


352 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


exclaimed, in a tone of anxious dismay : “ So long ! 
Three days still ! And there are so many Englishmen 
here who have seen your son in Italy, and might recog- 
nize you here ! ” 

But Fate itself seemed to delay the departure of the 
duchess and her son. On returning home from her visit 
to the Tuileries, she found her son on his bed in a violent 
fever, and the physician who had been called in declared 
that he was suffering from inflammation of the throat. 

Hortense was to tremble once more for the life of a 
son, and this son was the last treasure Fate had left her. 

Once more the mother sat at the bedside of her son, 
watching over him, lovingly, day and night. That her 
son’s life might be preserved was now her only wish, her 
only prayer ; all else became void of interest, and was lost 
sight of. She only left her son’s side when Casimir Per- 
rier came, as he was in the habit of doing daily, to inquire 
after her son’s condition in the name of the king, and to 
request the duchess to name the amount of her claims 
against France, and to impart to him all her wishes with 
regard to her future. Hortense now had but one ardent 
wish — the recovery of her son ; and her only request was, 
that she might be permitted to visit the French baths of 
the Pyrenees during the summer, in order to restore her 
failing health. 

The minister promised to procure this permission of 
the king, and of the Chambers, that were soon to be con- 
vened. “ In this way we shall gradually become accus- 
tomed to your presence,” observed Casimir Perrier. “ As 


LOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE DUCHESS OF ST. LEU. 353 

far as you are personally concerned, we shall be inclined 
to throw open the gates of the country to you. But with 
your son it is different, his name will be a perpetual 
obstacle in his way. If he should really desire at any 
time to take service in the army, it would be, above all, 
necessary that he should lay aside his name. We are in 
duty bound to consider the wishes of foreign govern- 
ments : France is divided into so many parties, that a 
w T ar could only be ruinous, and therefore your son must 
change his name, if — ” 

But now the duchess, her cheeks glowing, blushing 
with displeasure and anger, interrupted him. “ What ! ” 
exclaimed she, “ lay aside the noble name with which 
France may well adorn itself, conceal it as though we 
had cause to be ashamed of it \ ” 

Beside herself with anger, regardless, in her agitation, 
even of the suffering condition of her son, she hastened 
to his bedside, to inform him of the proposition made to 
her by Louis Philippe’s minister. 

The prince arose in his couch, his eyes flaming, and 
his cheeks burning at the same time w T ith the fever-heat 
of disease and of anger. 

“ Lay aside my name ! ” he exclaimed. “ Who dares 
to make such a proposition to me ? Let us think of all 
these things no more, mother. Let us go back to our 
retirement. Ah, you were right, mother : our time is 
passed, or it has not yet come ! ” 


354 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS FROM PARIS. 

Excitement had made the patient worse, and caused 
his fever to return with renewed violence. Hortense 
was now inseparable from his bedside ; she herself ap- 
plied ice to his burning throat, and assisted in applying 
the leeches ordered by the physician. But this continu- 
ous anxiety and excitement, all these troubles of the 
present, and sad remembrances of the past, had at last 
exhausted the strength of the delicate woman ; the flush 
of fever now began to show itself on her cheeks also, 
and the physician urged her to take daily exercise in the 
open air if she desired to avoid falling ill. 

Hortense followed his advice. In the evening twi- 
light, in plain attire, her face concealed by a heavy black 
veil, she now daily quitted her son’s bedside, and went 
out into the street for a walk, accompanied by the young 
Marquis Zappi. Xo one recognized her, no one greeted 
her, no one dreamed that the veiled figure that walked 
so quietly and shyly was she wdio, as Queen of Holland, 
had formerly driven through these same streets in gilded 
coaches, hailed by the joyous shouts of the people. 

But, in these wanderings through Paris, Hortense also 
lived in her memories only. She showed the marquis 
the dwelling she had once occupied, and which had for 
her a single happy association : her sons had been born 
there. With a soft smile she looked up at the proud 


THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS FROM PARIS. 355 


fagade of this building, the windows of which were bril- 
liantly illumined, and in whose parlors some banker or 
ennobled provision- dealer was now perhaps giving a ball ; 
pointing to these windows with her slender white hand, 
she said : “ I wished to see this house, in order to re- 
proach myself for having been unhappy in it; yes, I 
then dared to complain even in the midst of so much 
splendor ; I was so far from dreaming of the weight of 
the misfortune that was one day to come upon me.” * 

She looked down again and passed on, to seek the 
houses of several friends, of whom she knew that they 
had remained faithful ; heavily veiled and enveloped in 
her dark cloak she stood in front of these houses, not 
daring to acquaint her friends with her presence, con- 
tented with the sweet sense of being near them ! 

When, after having strengthened her heart with the 
consciousness of being near friends, she passed on 
through the streets, in which she, the daughter of France, 
was now unknown, homeless, and forgotten ! — no, not 
forgotten ! — as she chanced to glance in at a store she 
was just passing, she saw in the lighted window her own 
portrait at the side of that of the emperor. 

Overcome by a sweet emotion, Hortense stood still 
and gazed at these pictures. The laughing, noisy crowd 
on the sidewalk passed on, heedless of the shrouded 
woman who stood there before the shop-w T indow, gazing 
with tearful eyes at her own portrait. “ It seems we are 
still remembered,” whispered she, in a low voice. “ Those 

* The duchess’s own words : see Voyage, etc., p. 225. 


356 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


who wear crowns are not to be envied, and should not 
lament their loss ; but is it possible that the love of the 
people, to receive which is so sweet, has not jet been 
wholly withdrawn from us ? ” 

The profound indifference with which France had 
accepted the exile of the Bonapartes had grieved her 
deeply. She had only longed for some token of love and 
fidelity in order that she might go back into exile con- 
soled and strengthened. And now she found it. France 
proved to her through these portraits that she was not 
forgotten. 

Hortense stepped with her companion into the store 
to purchase the portraits of herself and of the emperor ; 
and when she was told that these portraits were in great 
demand, and that many of them were sold to the people, 
she hardly found strength to repress the tears of blissful 
emotion that rose from her heart to her eyes. She took 
the portraits and hastened home, to show them to her 
son and to bring to him with them the love-greetings of 
France. While the duchess, her thoughts divided be- 
tween the remembrances of the past and the cares and 
troubles of the present, had been sojourning in Paris for 
twelve days, all the papers were extolling the heroism of 
the duchess in having saved her son, and of her having 
embarked at Malta in order to take him to England. 

Even the king’s ministerial council occupied itself 
with this matter, and thought it proper to make repre- 
sentations to his majesty on the subject. Marshal Sebas- 
tiani informed the king that the Duchess of St. Leu, to 


THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS FROM PARIS. 357 

his certain knowledge, liad landed at Corfu. With lively 
interest he spoke of the fatiguing journey at sea that the 
duchess would be compelled to make, and asked almost 
timidly if she might not he permitted to travel through 
F ranee. 

The king’s countenance assumed an almost sombre 
look, and he replied, dryly : “ Let her continue her jour- 
ney.” Casimir Perrier bowed his head over the paper 
that lay before him, in order to conceal his mirth, and 
minister Barthe availed himself of the opportunity to 
give a proof of his eloquence and of his severity, by ob- 
serving that a law existed against the duchess, and that a 
law was a sacred thing that no one should be permitted 
to evade. 

But the presence of the duchess, although kept a se- 
cret, began to cause the king and his premier Casimir 
Perrier more and more uneasiness. The latter had al- 
ready once informed her through M. de Houdetot that 
her departure was absolutely necessary and must take 
place at once, and he had only been moved to consent to 
her further sojourn by the condition of the prince, whose 
inflammation of the throat had rendered a second appli- 
cation of leeches necessary. 

They were now, however, on the eve of a great and 
dangerous day, of the 5th of May.* The people of Paris 
were strangely moved, and the new government saw 
with much apprehension the dawn of this day of such 
great memories for France. There seemed to be some 
* The anniversary of Napoleon’s death. 


358 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


justification for this apprehension. Since the break of 
day, thousands of people had flocked to the column on 
the Place Vendome. Silently and gravely they ap- 
proached the monument, in order to adorn with wreaths 
of flowers the eagles, or to lay them at the foot of the 
column, and then to retire mournfully. 

Hortense stood at the window of her apartment, look- 
ing on with folded hands and tears of bliss at the im- 
pressive and solemn scene that was taking place on the 
Place Vendome beneath, when suddenly a violent knock- 
ing was heard at her door, and M. de Houdetot rushed 
in, a pale and sorrowful expression on his countenance. 

“ Duchess,” said he breathlessly, “ you must depart 
immediately, without an hour’s delay ! I am ordered to 
inform you of this. Unless the life of your son is to be 
seriously endangered, you must leave at once ! ” 

Hortense listened to him tranquilly. She almost 
pitied the king — the government — to whom a weak 
woman and an invalid youth could cause such fear. 
How great must this fear be, when it caused them to 
disregard all the laws of hospitality and of decency ! 
What had she done to justify this fear ? She had not 
addressed herself to the people of France, in order to 
obtain help and protection for her son — for the nephew 
of the emperor; cautiously and timidly she had con- 
cealed herself from the people, and, far from being dis- 
posed to arouse or agitate her country, she had only made 
herself known to the King of France in order to solicit 
protection and toleration at his hands. 


THE DEPARTURE OF THE DUCHESS FROM PARIS. 359 

She was distrusted, in spite of this candor ; and her 
presence, although known to no one, awakened appre- 
hensions in those in authority. Hortense pitied them ; 
not a word of complaint or regret escaped her lips. She 
sent for her physician at once ; and, after informing him 
that she must necessarily depart for London, she asked 
him if such a journey would endanger her son’s life. 
The physician declared that, while he could have desired 
a few days more of repose, the prince would neverthe- 
less, with proper care and attention, be able to leave on 
the following day. 

“ Inform the king that I shall depart to-morrow,” 
said Hortense ; and, while M. de Houdetot was hastening 
to the king with this welcome intelligence, the duchess 
was making preparations for the journey, which she be- 
gan with her son early on the following morning. 

In four days they reached Calais, where they found 
the ship that was to convey them to England in readiness 
to sail. Hortense was to leave her country once more 
as a fugitive and exile ! She was once more driven out, 
and condemned to live in a foreign country ! Because 
the French people still refused to forget their emperor, 
the French kings hated and feared the imperial family. 
Under the old Bourbons, they had been hated ; Louis 
Philippe, who had attained his crown through the peo- 
ple, felt that it was necessary to flatter the people, and 
show some consideration for their sympathies. He de- 
clared to the people that he entertained the most pro- 
found admiration for their great emperor, and yet he 


360 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


issued a decree of banishment against the Bonapartes ; 
he ordered that the Venddme column, with its bronze 
statue of the emperor, should be adorned, and at the same 
time his decree banished the daughter and the nephew 
of the emperor from France, and drove them back into a 
foreign country. 

Hortense went, but she felt, in the pain it caused her, 
that she was leaving her country — the country in which 
she had friends whom she had not seen again ; the coun- 
try in which lay her mother’s grave, which she had not 
dared to visit ; and, finally, the grave of her son ! She 
once more left behind her all the remembrances of her 
youth — all the places she had loved ; and her regret and 
her tears made known how dear these things still were 
to her; that the banished and homeless one \vas still 
powerless to banish the love of country from her heart, 
and that France was still her home ! 


CHAPTEK X. 

PILGRIMAGE THROUGH FRANCE. 

The sojourn of the Duchess of St. Leu in England 
where she arrived with her son after a stormy passage, 
was for both a succession of triumphs and ovations. The 
high aristocracy of London heaped upon her proofs of 
esteem, of reverence, and of love; every one seemed 
anxious to atone for the severity and cruelty with which 


PILGRIMAGE THROUGH FRANCE, 


361 


England had treated the emperor, by giving proofs of 
their admiration and respect for his step-daughter. All 
these proud English aristocrats seemed desirous of prov- 
ing to the duchess and her son that they were not of the 
same disposition as Hudson Lowe, who had slowly tor- 
mented the chained lion to death with petty annoyances. 

The Duchess of Bedford, Lord and Lady Holland, 
and Lady Grey, in particular, were untiring in their 
efforts to do the honors of their country to Hortense, and 
to show her every possible attention. But Hortense de- 
clined their proffered invitations. She avoided all pub- 
licity ; she feared, on her own and her son’s account, that 
the tattle of the world and the newspapers might once 
more draw down upon her the distrust and ill-will of the 
French government. She feared that this might prevent 
her returning with her son, through France, to her quiet 
retreat on the Lake of Constance, in Switzerland, to her 
charming Arenenberg, where she had passed so many 
delightful and peaceful years of repose and remembrance. 

Hortense was right. Her sojourn in England ex- 
cited, as soon as it became known, in every quarter, care, 
curiosity, and disquiet. All parties were seeking to di- 
vine the duchess’s intention in residing in London. All 
parties were convinced that she entertained plans that 
might endanger and frustrate their own. The Duchess 
de Berri, who resided in Bath, had come to London as 
soon as she heard of the arrival of the Duchess of St. 
Leu, in order to inquire into Hortense’s real intention. 
The bold and enterprising Duchess de Berri was prepar- 


362 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


ing to go to France, in order to call the people to arms 
for herself and son, to hurl Louis Philippe from his 
usurped throne, and to restore to her son his rightful 
inheritance. They, therefore, thought it perfectly natu- 
ral that Hortense should entertain similar plans for her 
son ; that she, too, should purpose the overthrow of the 
French king in order to place her own son, or the son of 
the emperor, the Duke de Reichstadt, on the throne. 

On the other hand, it had been endeavored to per- 
suade Prince Leopold, of Coburg, to whom the powers of 
Europe had just offered the crown of Belgium, that the 
Duchess of St. Leu had come to England in order to pos- 
sess herself of Belgium by a coup d’etat , and to proclaim 
Louis Napoleon its king. But this wise and magnani- 
mous prince laughed at these intimations. He had 
known the duchess in her days of magnificence, and he 
now hastened to lay the same homage at the foot of the 
homeless woman that he had once devoted to the adored 
and powerful Queen of Holland. He called on the 
duchess, conversed with her of her beautiful and bril- 
liant past, and told her of the hopes which he himself 
entertained for the future. Deeply bowed down by the 
death of his beloved wife, Princess Charlotte of England, 
it was his purpose to seek consolation in his misfortune 
by striving to make his people happy. He had therefore 
accepted the crown tendered him by the people, and was 
on the point of departing for Belgium. 

While taking leave of the duchess, after a long and 
cordial conversation, he remarked, with a gentle smile : 


PILGRIMAGE THROUGH FRANCE. 333 

“ I trust you will not take my kingdom away from me on 
your journey through Belgium ? ” 

While the new government of France, as well as the 
exiled Bourbons, suspected the Duchess of St. Leu and 
her son of entertaining plans for the subversion of the 
French throne, the imperialists and republicans were 
hoping that Hortense’s influence might be exerted upon 
the destinies of France. Everywhere in France as well 
as in England, the people were of the opinion that the 
new throne of Louis Philippe had no vitality, because it 
had no support in the heart of the people. The partisans 
of the Bourbons believed that France longed for the 
grandson of St. Louis, for its hereditary king, Henry Y. ; 
the imperialists were convinced that the new government 
was about to be overthrown, and that France was more 
anxious than ever to see the emperors son, Napoleon II., 
restored. The republicans, however, distrusted the people 
and the army, and began to perceive that they could only 
attain the longed-for republican institutions under a Bo- 
naparte. They therefore sent their secret emissaries as 
well to the Duke de Beichstadt as to Louis Napoleon. 

The Duke de Beichstadt, to whom these emissaries 
proposed that he should come to France and present him- 
self to the people, replied : “ I cannot go to France as an 
adventurer ; let the nation call me, and I shall find means 
to get there.” 

To the propositions made to him, Louis Napoleon re- 
plied that he belonged to France under all circumstances ; 

that he had proved this by asking permission to serve 
24 


364 : 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


France, but be bad been rejected. It would not become 
bim to force to a decision by a coup d’etat tbe nation 
whose decrees he would ever bold sacred. 

Hortense regarded these efforts of tbe imperialists 
and of tbe republicans to win lier son to tlieir purposes 
with a sorrowful and anxious heart. She hoped and 
longed for nothing more than the privilege of living in 
retirement with her memories ; she felt exhausted and 
sobered by the few steps she had already taken into the 
great world ; she, who had ever felt the most tender sym- 
pathy for the misfortunes of others, and the most ardent 
desire to alleviate them — she had nowhere found in her 
misfortune any thing but injustice, indifference, and cal- 
umny. 

Hortense longed to be back at Arenenberg, in her 
Swiss mountains. Thither she desired to return with her 
son, in order that she might there dream with him of 
the brilliant days that had been, and sing with him the 
exalted song of her remembrances ! If the French gov- 
ernment should permit her to journey with her son 
through France, she could easily and securely reach the 
Swiss Canton of Thurgau, where her little estate, Are- 
nenberg, lay under the protection of the republic ; the 
daughter of the emperor would there be certain to find 
peace and repose ! 

The duchess there wrote to M. de Houdetot, begging 
him to procure for her from the French government a 
passport, permitting her to travel through France under 
some assumed name. It was promised her after long 


PILGRIMAGE THROUGH FRANCE. 


365 


hesitation, but under the condition that she should not 
commence her journey until after July, until after the 
first anniversary of the coronation of Louis Philippe. 

Hortense agreed to this, and received on the first of 
August a passport, which permitted her, as Madame Are- 
nenberg, to pass through France with her son in order to 
return to her estate in Switzerland. 

It was at first the duchess’s intention, notwithstanding 
the unquiet movements that were taking place in the capi- 
tal, to journey through Paris, for the very purpose of 
proving, by her quiet and uninterested demeanor, that 
she had no share whatever in these movements and riots. 

But, on informing Louis Napoleon of her intention, 
he exclaimed, with sparkling eyes : “ If we go to Paris, 
and if I should see the people sabred before my eyes, I 
shall not be able to resist the inclination to place myself 
on its side ! ” * 

Hortense clasped her son anxiously in her arms, as if 
to protect him from all danger, on her maternal heart. 
“ We shall not go to Paris,” said she, “ we will wander 
through France, and pray before the monuments of our 
happiness ! ” 

On the 7th of August the Duchess of St. Leu left 
England with her son, Louis Napoleon, and landed after a 
pleasant passage at Boulogne. 

Boulogne was for Hortense the first monument of her 
happiness, at the foot of which she wished to pray ! 
There, during the most brilliant period of the empire, 


* La Reine Hortense, p. 276. 


366 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


slie had attended the military fetes, in the midst of which 
the emperor was preparing to go forth to encounter new 
dangers, and to reap, perhaps, new renown. A high 
column designated the place where these camp-festivals 
had once taken place. It had been erected under the 
empire, but under the restoration the name of Louis 
XVIII. had been inscribed on it. 

Accompanied by the prince, the Duchess of St. Leu 
ascended this column, in order to show him from its sum- 
mit the beautiful and flourishing France, that had once 
been her own and through which they must now pass 
with veiled countenances and borrowed names. From 
there she pointed out to him the situation of the different 
camps, the location of the imperial tent, then the place 
where the emperor’s throne had stood, and where he had 
first distributed crosses of the legion of honor among the 
soldiers. 

With a glowing countenance and in breathless atten- 
tion, Louis Napoleon listened to his mother’s narrative. 
Hortense, lost in her recollections, had not noticed that 
two other visitors, a lady and a gentleman, were now also 
on the platform and had listened to a part of her narra- 
tive. As the duchess ceased speaking, they approached 
to tell her with what deep interest they had listened to 
her narrative of the most glorious period of French his- 
tory. They were a young married couple from Paris, 
and had much to relate concerning the parties who were 
now arrayed against each other in France, and who made 
the future of the country so uncertain. 


PILGRIMAGE THROUGH FRANCE. 


367 


In return for Hortense’ s so eloquent description of the 
past, they now told her of a bon mot of the present that 
was going the rounds of Parisian society. It was there 
said that the best means of satisfying everybody and all 
parties would be, to convert France into a republic and to 
give it three consuls, the Duke of Reichstadt, the Duke 
of Orleans, and the Duke of Bordeaux. “But,” added 
they, “ it might easily end in the first consul’s driving out 
the other two, and making himself emperor.” 

Hortense found the courage to answer this jest with a 
smile, but she hastened to leave the place and to get away 
from the couple, who had perhaps recognized her, and 
told them of the bon mot with a purpose. 

Sadly and silently, mother and son returned to their 
hotel, which was situated on the sea-side, and commanded 
a fine view of the surging, foaming waters of the channel 
and of the lofty column of the empire. 

They both stepped out on the balcony. It was a 
beautiful evening ; the setting sun shed its purple rays 
over the surface of the sea. Murmuring and in melodi- 
ous tace the foaming waves rolled in upon the beach ; on 
another side, the lofty column, glowing in the light of the 
setting sun, towered aloft like a pillar of fire, a memorial 
monument of fire ! 

Hortense, who for some time had been silently gazing, 
first at the column, then at the sea, now turned with a sad 
smile to her son. 

u Let us spend an hour with recollections of the past,” 
said she. “ In the presence of this foaming sea and of 


368 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


this proud column, I will show you a picture of the past. 
Do you wish to see it ? ” 

His gaze fastened on the imperial column, Louis Na- 
poleon silently nodded assent. 

Hortense went to her room, and soon returned to the 
balcony with a book, bound in red velvet. Often, during 
the quiet days of Arenenberg, the prince had seen her 
writing in this book, but never had Hortense yielded to 
his entreaties and permitted him to read any part of her 
memoirs. Unsolicited it was her intention to unfold be- 
fore him to-day a brilliant picture ; in view of the sad 
and desolate present, she wished to portray to him the 
bright and glittering past, perhaps only for the purpose 
of entertaining him, perhaps in order to console him with 
the hope that all that is passes away, and that the present 
would therefore also come to an end, and that which once 
was, again become reality for him, the heir of the em- 
peror. 

She seated herself at her son’s side, on a little sofa 
that stood on the balcony, and, opening her book, began 
to read. 


CHAPTER XI. 

FRAGMENT FROM THE MEMOIRS OF QUEEN HORTENSE. 

“ The emperor had returned from Italy. The beauti- 
ful ceremony of the distribution of the crosses of the 
Legion of Honor had taken place before his departure, 
and I had been present on the occasion ; the emperor 


FRAGMENT FROM MEMOIRS OF QUEEN HORTENSE. 3C9 

now repaired to Boulogne, in order to make a second dis- 
tribution of the order in the army on his birthday. lie 
had made my husband general of the army of the reserve, 
and sent him a courier, with the request that he should 
come with me and our son to the camp at Boulogne. My 
husband did not wish to interrupt the baths he was taking 
at St. Amand, but he requested me to go to Boulogne, to 
spend a week with the emperor. 

“ The emperor resided at Boulogne in a little villa 
called Pont de Brigue. His sister, Caroline, and Murat, 
lived in another little villa near by. I lived with them, 
and every day we went to dine with the emperor. Dur- 
ing two years, our troops had been concentrating in full 
view of England, and every one expected an attack. The 
camp at Boulogne was erected on the sea-side, and re- 
sembled a long and regularly-built city. Each hut had a 
little garden, flowers, and birds. In the middle of the 
camp, on an elevation, stood the emperor’s tent ; near by, 
that of Marshal Berthier. All the men-of-war on the 
water were drawn up in a line, only waiting the signal of 
departure. In the distance we could see England, and its 
beautiful ships that were cruising along the coast seemed 
to form an impenetrable barrier. This grand spectacle 
gave us for the first time an illustration of an unknown, 
hitherto not-dreamed-of power that stood opposed to us. 
Here every thing was calculated to excite the imagina- 
tion. This boundless sea might soon transform itself into 
a battle-field, and swallow up the elite of the two greatest 
nations. Our troops, proud in the feeling that there were 


370 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


no obstacles for them, made impatient by two years’ re- 
pose, glowing with energy and bravery, already imagined 
themselves to have attained the opposite coast. When 
one considered their bravery and confidence, success 
seemed certain ; but when the eye turned to the impene- 
trable forest of masts on the hostile ships, a feeling of 
anxiety and fear suddenly took possession of the heart. 
And yet nothing seemed to be wanting to the expedition 
but a favorable wind. 

“ Of all the homage that a woman can receive, mili- 
tary homage has in the highest degree the chivalrous 
character, and it is impossible not to feel flattered by it. 

“ There could not be any thing more delightful or 
imposing than the homage of which I was here the object, 
and it was only here that it made any impression on me. 

“ The emperor gave me as an escort his equerry, Gen- 
eral Defrance. Whenever I approached a camp division, 
the guard was called out and presented arms. 

“ I had interceded for several soldiers who were un- 
dergoing punishment for breaches of discipline, and was 
on this account received everywhere with the liveliest 
enthusiasm. The entire mounted general staff escorted 
my carriage, and my approach was everywhere hailed by 
brilliant music. It was on such an occasion that I saw 
for the first time the urn which a grenadier wore attached 
to his belt ; I was told that the emperor, in order to do 
honor to the memory of the gallant Latour d’ Auvergne,* 

* Latour d’ Auvergne, a descendant of the celebrated Turenne, was 
known and honored throughout the whole army on account of the 


FRAGMENT FROM MEMOIRS OF QUEEN HORTENSE. 371 


had caused his heart to be enclosed in a leaden casket, 
which he had intrusted to the oldest soldier of the regi- 
ment, commanding that his name should always be called 
at the roll-call, as though he were present. He who bore 
the heart replied : 4 Dead on the field of honor.’ 

44 One day, a breakfast was given me at the camp of 
Ambleteuse. I desired to go by water, and, notwith- 
standing a contrary wind, the admiral took me. I saw 
the English ships, and we passed so near them, that they 
might easily have captured our yacht. I also visited the 
Dutch fleet commanded by Admiral Versuelt, where I 
was received with great applause, the sailors little dream- 
ing that I would be their queen within the space of a 
year.* 

44 On another occasion, the emperor ordered a review. 
The English, who felt disquieted, by the appearance of so 
many troops drawn up before them, approached nearer 
and nearer to our coasts, and even fired a few cannon- 
shots at us ; the emperor was at the head of his French 
columns when they replied to -these shots, and was thus 
placed between two fires. As we had followed him, we 

lion-hearted courage which he had exhibited on so many occasions. 
As he invariably declined the many advancements and honors that 
were tendered him, Napoleon appointed him first grenadier of the 
army. He fell in the action at Neuburg, and the Viceroy of Italy, 
Eugene Beauharnais, afterward caused a monument to be erected 
there in his memory. 

* In order to reach the harbor of Ambleteuse to which they had 
been assigned, the Dutch had first been compelled to do battle with 
the English fleet, and in this combat they had acquitted themselves 
with the greatest honor. 


372 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


were now compelled to remain at his side. To his uncle’s 
great joy, my son exhibited no symptom of fear whatever. 
But the generals trembled at seeing the emperor exposed 
to such danger. The ramrod of some awkward soldier 
might prove as dangerous as a ball. In the midst of this 
imposing spectacle, I was struck with astonishment at the 
contrast presented by the troops under different circum- 
stances. When drawn up in line of battle, they glowed 
with gallantry and determination, but, in the days of re- 
pose, they resembled well-behaved children, who could 
amuse themselves with a flower or a bird. The most 
daring warrior was then often converted into the most 
diligent and submissive scholar. 

“ For the breakfast which Marshal Davoust gave me 
in his tent, the grenadiers had been preparing to entertain 
us with several songs, and came forward to sing them 
with the bashfulness of young girls. In the most embar- 
rassed and timid manner, they sang a song full of the 
fiercest and most daring threats against England. 

“ From the emperor’s parlor we often saw the soldiers 
of his guard assemble on the grass-plot before the castle ; 
one of them would play the violin and instruct his com- 
rades in dancing. The beginners would study the ‘ jetes ’ 
and ‘ assembles ’ with the closest attention ; the more ad- 
vanced ones would execute a whole contre-dance. From 
behind the window -blinds we watched them with the 
greatest pleasure. The emperor, who often surprised us 
at this occupation, would laugh with us and rejoice at the 
innocent amusements of his soldiers. 


FRAGMENT FROM MEMOIRS OF QUEEN HORTENSE. 373 

“ Was tliis project of a landing in England really in- 
tended ? Or was it the emperor’s purpose by these enor- 
mous preparations to divert attention from other points, 
and fix it on this one only ? Even to-day this is a ques- 
tion which I cannot venture to decide ; here, as elsewhere, 
I only report what I have seen, 

“ Madame Key also gave me a brilliant festival at 
Montreuil, where her husband the marshal was in com- 
mand. During the forenoon the troops were manoeuvred 
before me, in the evening a ball took place. But this 
was suddenly interrupted by the intelligence that the em- 
peror had just embarked. 

“ A number of young officers, who had been present 
at the ball, rushed out on the road to Boulogne ; I fol- 
lowed them with the rapidity of lightning, escorted as 
usual by General Defrance, who burned with impatience 
to be again at the emperor’s side. I myself felt unutter- 
able emotion at the prospect of witnessing so great an 
occurrence. I imagined myself observing the battle from 
the summit of the tower that stood near the emperor’s 
tent ; beholding our fleet advance and sink down into the 
waves, I shuddered in anticipation. 

“ At last I arrived. I inquired after the emperor, and 
learned that he had actually attended the embarkation of 
all his troops during the night, but that he had just re- 
turned to his villa. 

“ I did not see him until dinner, at which he asked 
Prince Joseph, who was then colonel of a regiment, 
whether he had believed in this pretended embarkation, 


374 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


and wliat effect it had had on the soldiers. Joseph said 
that he, like all the world, had believed that a departure 
was really intended, and that the soldiers had doubted it 
so little that they had sold their watches. The emperor 
also often asked if the telegraph had not yet announced 
the approach of the French squadron ; his adjutant, Lau- 
riston, was with the squadron, and the emperor seemed 
only to be awaiting Lauriston’s arrival and a favorable 
wind, in order to set sail. 

“ The eight days’ absence accorded me by my husband 
had expired, and I took leave of the emperor. I jour- 
neyed through Calais and Dunkirk. I saw troops defil- 
ing before me everywhere ; and with regret and fear 
I left this magnificent army, thinking that they might 
perhaps in a few days be exposed to the greatest 
dangers. 

“ At St. Amand we were every day expecting to hear 
of the passage of our fleet to England, when we sud- 
denly saw the troops arriving in our neighborhood and 
passing on in forced marches toward the Rhine. Austria 
had broken the peace. We hastened at once to Paris, 
to see the emperor once more before his departure for 
Germany.” * 


* La Reine Hortense en Italie. France, etc., p. 278. 


THE PILGRIM. 


375 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE PILGRIM. 

On the following morning the duchess left Boulogne 
with her son, in order to wander on with him through 
the land of her youth and of her memories. 

It was a sad and yet heart-stirring pilgrimage ; for, 
although banished and nameless, she was nevertheless in 
her own country — she still stood on French soil. For 
sixteen years she had been living in a foreign land, in a 
land whose language was unknown to her, and whose 
people she could therefore not understand. How, on 
this journey through France, she rejoiced once more in 
being able to understand the conversation of the people 
in the streets, and of the peasants in the fields. It was a 
sensation of mingled bitterness and sweetness to feel that 
she was not a stranger among this people, and it there- 
fore now afforded her the greatest delight to chat with 
those she met, and to listen to their naive and artless 
words. 

As soon as she arrived at her hotel in any city or 
village in which she purposed enjoying a day’s rest, 
Hortense would walk out into the streets on her son’s 
arm. On one occasion she stepped into a booth, seated 
herself, and conversed with the people who came to the 
store to purchase their daily necessaries ; on another 
occasion, she accosted a child on the street, kissed it, and 
inquired after its parents; then, again, she would con- 


376 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


verse with the peasants in the villages about their farms, 
and the prospects of a plentiful harvest. The naive, 
strong, and healthy disposition of the people delighted 
her, and, with the smiling pride of a happy mother, 
she showed her son this great and beautiful family, this 
French people, to which they, though banished and cast 
off, still belonged. 

In Chantilly, she showed the prince the palace of 
Prince Conde. The forests that stood in the neighbor- 
hood had once belonged to the queen, or rather they had 
been a portion of the appendage which the emperor, 
since the union of Holland and France, had set apart 
for her second son, Louis Napoleon. Hortense had 
never been in the vicinity, and could therefore visit the 
castle without fear of being recognized. 

They asked the guide, who had shown them the castle 
and the garden, who had been the former possessor of the 
great forests of Chantilly. 

“ The step-daughter of the Emperor Napoleon, Queen 
Hortense,” replied the man, w T ith perfect indifference. 
“ The people continued to speak of her here for a long 
time ; it was said that she was wandering about in the 
country in disguise, but for the last few years nothing 
has been heard of her, and I do not know what has be- 
come of her.” 

“ She is surely dead, the poor queen,” said Hortense, 
with so sad a smile that her son turned pale, and his eyes 
filled with tears. 

From Chantilly they wandered on to Ermenonville 


THE PILGRIM. 


377 


and Morfontaine, for Hortense desired to show her son 
all the places she had once seen in the days of fortune 
with the emperor and her mother. These places now 
seemed as solitary and deserted as she herself was. How 
great the splendor that had once reigned in Ermenonville, 
when the emperor had visited the owner of the place in 
order to enjoy with him the delights of the chase ! In 
the walks of the park, in which thousands of lamps had 
then shone, the grass now grew rankly; a miserable, 
leaky boat was now the only conveyance to the Poplar 
Island, sacred to the memory of Jean Jacques, on whose 
monument Hortense and Louis Napoleon now inscribed 
their names. Morfontaine appeared still more desolate ; 
the allies had sacked it in 1815, and it had not been 
repaired since then. In Morfontaine, Hortense had at- 
tended a magnificent festival given by Joseph Bonaparte, 
then its owner, to his imperial brother. 

In St. Denis there were still more sacred and beauti- 
ful remembrances for Hortense, for here was situated the 
great college for the daughters of high military officers, 
of which Hortense had been the protectress. She dared 
not show herself, for she well knew that she was not 
forgotten here ; here there were many who still knew and 
loved her, and she could only show herself to strangers. 
But she nevertheless visited the church, and descended 
with Louis Napoleon into the vaults. Louis XVIII. 
alone reposed in the halls which the empire had restored 
for the reception of the new family of rulers, adopted by 
France. Alas ! he who built these halls, the Emperor 


378 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


[Napoleon, now reposed under a weeping-willow on a 
desolate island in the midst of the sea, and he who had 
deposed him now occupied the place intended for the 
sarcophagus of the emperor. 

While wandering through these silent and gloomy 
halls, Hortense thought of the day on which she had 
come hither with the emperor to inspect the building 
of the church. And that time she had been ill and suf- 
ering, and with the fullest conviction she had said to 
her mother that she, Queen Hortense, would be the first 
that would be laid to rest in the vault of St. Denis. 
Now, after so many years, she descended into it living, 
and had hardly a right to visit it. 

But there was another grave, another monument to 
her memories, beside which Hortense desired to pray. 
This was the grave of the Empress Josephine, in the 
church at Ruelle. 

With what emotions did she approach this place and 
kneel down beside the grave-mound! Of all that Jose- 
phine had loved, there remained only Hortense and her 
son, a solitary couple, who were now secretly visiting 
the place where Hortense’s mother reposed. The num- 
ber of flowers that adorned the monument proved that 
Josephine was at least resting in the midst of friends, 
who still held her memory sacred, and this was a consola- 
tion for her daughter. 

From [Ruelle and its consecrated grave they wandered 
on to Malmaison. Above all, Hortense wished to show 
this palace to her son ! It was from this place that Na- 


THE PILGRIM. 


379 


poleon liad departed to leave France forever ! Here 
Ilortense had had the pleasure of sweetening for him, 
by her tender sympathy, the moment when all the world 
had abandoned him — the moment when he fell from the 
heights of renown into the abyss of misfortune. But, 
alas ! the poor queen was not even to have the satisfac- 
tion of showing to her son the palace, sacred to so many 
memories that had once been her own ! The present 
owner had given strict orders to give admission to the 
palace only upon presentation of permits that must be 
obtained of him beforehand, and, as Ilortense had none, 
her entreaties were all in vain. 

She was cruelly repelled from the threshold of the 
palace in which in former days she had been so joyfully 
received by her devoted friends and servants ! 

Sorrowfully, her eyes clouded with tears, she turned 
away and returned to her hotel, leaning on her son’s arm. 

In silence she seated herself at his side on the stone 
bench that stood before the house, and gazed at the pal- 
ace in which she had spent such happy and momentous 
days, lost in the recollections of the past ! 

“ It is, perhaps, natural,” she murmured in a low 
voice, “that absence should cause those, who have the 
happiness to remain in their homes, to forget us. But, 
for those who are driven out into foreign lands, the life 
of the heart stands still, and the past is all to them ; to 
the exiled the present and the future are unimportant. 
In France every thing has progressed, every thing is 
changed, I alone am left behind, with my sentiments of 


380 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


unchangeable love and fidelity ! Alas ! how sorrowful 
and painful it is to be forgotten ! * How — ■” 

Suddenly she was interrupted by the tones of a piano, 
that resounded in her immediate vicinity. Behind the 
bench on which they were sitting, were the windows of 
the parlor of the hotel. These windows were open, and 
each tone of the music within could be heard with the 
greatest distinctness. 

The playing was now interrupted by a female voice, 
which said : “ Sing us a song, my daughter.” 

“ What shall I sing ? ” asked another and more youth- 
ful voice. 

“ Sing the beautiful, touching song your brother 
brought you from Paris yesterday. The song of Del- 
phine Gay, set to music by M. de Beauplan.” 

“ Ah, you mean the song about Queen Hortense, who 
comes to Paris as a pilgrim? You are right, mamma, it 
is a beautiful and touching song, and I will sing it ! ” 

And the young lady struck the keys more forcibly, 
and began to play the prelude. 

Outside on the stone bench sat she who was once 
Queen Hortense, but was now the poor, solitary pilgrim. 
Nothing remained to her of the glorious past, but her 
son, who sat at her side ! Hand in hand, both breathless 
with emotion, both pale and tearful, they listened until 
the young girl concluded her touching song. 

* The duchess’s own words. See Voyage en Italie, etc., p. 305. 


CONCLUSION. 


381 


> 


CHAPTER XIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

This sorrowful pilgrimage was at last at an end. 
Hortense was once more in her mountain-home, in the 
charming villa overlooking the Lake of Constance, and 
commanding a lovely view of the majestic lake, with its 
island and its surrounding cities and villages. 

Honor to the Canton Thurgau, which, when all the 
world turned its back on the queen upon whom all the 
governments and destiny alike frowned — when even her 
nearest relatives, the Grand-duke and the Grand-duchess 
Stephanie of Baden, were compelled to forbid her resi- 
dence in their territory — still had the courage to offer 
the Duchess of St. Leu an asylum, and to accord her, on 
the free soil of the little republic, a refuge from which 
the ill-will and distrust of the mighty could not drive her ! 

In Arenenberg, Hortense reposed from her weariness. 
With a bleeding breast she returned home, her heart 
wounded by a fearful blow, the loss of a noble and be- 
loved son, broken in spirit, and bowed down by the cold- 
ness and cruelty of the world, which, in the cowardly 
fear of its egoism, had become faithless, even to the holi- 
est and most imperishable of all religions, the religion of 
memory ! 

How many, who had once vowed love and gratitude, 
had abandoned her ! how many, whom she had benefited 
had deserted her in the hour of peril ! 


382 


QUEEN HORTENSE. 


In the generosity and kindliness of her heart, she 
forgave them all; and, instead of nursing a feeling of 
bitterness, she pitied them ! She had done with the 
outer world ! Arenenberg was now her world — Arenen- 
berg, in which her last and only happiness, her son, the 
heir of the imperial name, lived with her — Arenenberg, 
which was as a temple of memory, in which Hortense 
was the pious and believing priestess. 

At Arenenberg Hortense wrote the sad and touching 
story of her journey through Italy, France, and Eng- 
land, which she undertook, in the heroism of maternal 
love, in order to rescue her son. The noblest woman- 
hood, the most cultivated mind, the proudest and purest 
soul, speaks from out this book, with which Hortense has 
erected a monument to herself that is more imperishable 
than all the monuments of stone and bronze, for this 
monument speaks to the heart — those to the eyes only. 
Hortense wrote this book with her heart often inter- 
rupted by the tears that dimmed her eyes ; she concludes 
it with a touching appeal to the French people, which it 
may well be permitted us to repeat here ; it is as follows : 

“ The renewal of the law of exile, and the assimilation 
made between us and the Bourbons, testify to the senti- 
ments and fears that are entertained respecting us. Ho 
friendly voice has been raised in our behalf ; this indif- 
ference has doubled the bitterness of our banishment ! 
May they, however, still be happy — those who f orget ! 
May they, above all, make France happy ! This is my 
prayer ! 


CONCLUSION. 


383 


“ As for the people, it will, if it remembers its glory, 
its grandeur, and the incessant care of which it was the 
object, ever hold our memory dear. This is my firm 
conviction, and this thought is the sweetest consolation 
of an exile, the sweetest consolation he can take with him 
to the grave ! ” * 

Hortense still lived a few years of peaceful tranquil- 
lity ; far from all she loved — far also from the son who 
w T as her last hope, never dreaming that destiny had so 
brilliant a future in store for him, and that Louis Napo- 
leon, whom the Bourbons had banished from France as a 
child, and the Orleans as a youth — that Louis Napoleon 
w T ould one day be enthroned in Paris as emperor, while 
the Bourbons and Orleans languish in foreign lands as 
exiles ! 

In the year 1837, Hortense, the flower of the Bona- 
partes, died ! 

Weary, at 'last, of misfortune, and of the exile in 
which she languished, she bowed her head, and went 
home to her great dead — home to Napoleon and Jose- 
phine ! 

* Voyage en Italie, etc., p. 324. 


THE END. 







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